Sacrificial Lamb
by Stalker of Stories
Summary: When Harry's letter arrives, fear and magic bring him to Spira, where the fight between sin and faith is as real as can be. Trained as a summoner, Harry embarks on pilgrimage to cleanse the sins his Aunt always said were his. But Harry's death is promised to more than one evil, and fate always gets its way. Currently on Part II: The Wizard
1. I: The Pilgrim: Borne of Thunder

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes. The Religious themes do NOT reflect the beliefs of the author. _Keep in mind that those expressed in this chapter in relation to the Christian faith are Harry's interpretations of Petunia's warped interpretations. I am not making any commentary on Christianity. I am simply portraying the warped view of Anglicanism that I believe Petunia would pass on to Harry to make him feel even more freakish._

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part I: The Pilgrim**

Chapter 1: Borne of Thunder

Harry James Potter of Number 4, Private Drive, was a fairly normal boy. He was a bit skinny, and perhaps his eyes were a bit too bright and his hair more than a bit too messy, but he was normal as far as most people could tell. He looked like a street urchin with his oversized hand-me-down clothes, but anyone could blame that on his overweight, well-clothed relatives, the Dursleys, who had raised him. Anyone who met the boy would wonder at how his aunt and uncle always apologized for his oddity, when he wasn't the least bit strange to them, or how his cousin was quite well assured that the boy was nothing shy of freakish. Truly, to most it was astounding.

Harry found it rather astounding too, since he didn't see any difference between himself and most people that wasn't caused by his relatives' treatment of him. Well, assuming one discounted the way his hair always grew back to the same length and style over the course of hours, and never exceeded that point, or how he managed to get on top of the school without realizing it, or any other number of strange things that happened around him.

Like snakes somehow escaping their cages at the zoo.

But, really, Harry could hardly be held accountable for those things. Except, of course, by his family. He figured that the occasional strange occurrence was what led to these situations.

"But I don't _want_ to get the post! Make Harry get it!" Dudley, Harry's cousin who probably contained more fat in his body than there was in a butcher's shop, whined pathetically to his parents before taking a large bite out of a strip of bacon.

"Boy, get the post," Harry's uncle, Vernon, wasn't really paying much attention. Harry thought, momentarily, to turn that to his advantage and maybe get his uncle to rescind the order – he'd actually told _Dudley_ of all people to grab the post, after all! – but thought better of it. Dudley would make a stink about it, or worse, Vernon would catch on to what Harry was doing and punish him for it.

The ten year old slunk away from the table, ducking a well aimed jab of Dudley's smelting-stick as he made his way to the hallway. He grabbed the mail swiftly, wanting to get back to his breakfast before Dudley started nicking it, and passed it off to his uncle as quickly as he could before tucking in again.

"Bill… Bill… Highway robbery, that is!" Vernon's grumbling over the mail was quickly ignored by the lad in favor of defending his bacon from Dudley's greasy mitts. He was so distracted with his strategic blocks – directing Dudley's hands to the crispier pieces Harry didn't want as badly, or to the fried potatoes – that Harry was completely floored when his uncle's fist slammed on the table.

He was so floored, in fact, that he fell out of his chair and hit his head on the way down.

"Out! GET OUT!" Vernon's roar echoed like thunder in the large kitchen, and Harry knew better than to do anything but hightail it. That Dudley followed him out soon after a resounding slap of flesh was heard, left cheek reddening from the impact, set the boy more on edge. What could have caused Vernon to lash out at _Dudley_? Not the fight over the food – Vernon would have hit Harry over that and wouldn't have banished his son from the kitchen – but…

"How could they know where he _sleeps_?" Petunia's harsh whisper could be made out from the hallway. Harry was tempted to go to his cupboard, the extra layer of wood protecting him from the harsh tones in the kitchen, but something told him to listen.

"How the blazes would I know? They've probably been watching the house since they forced us to take in his ungrateful hide!" Vernon's low grumble was a bit harder to pick out than Petunia's, but Harry figured it out quick enough. They were talking about something to do with _him_. "It's clear as day they don't care where he sleeps or what we do with him. They send this letter about that ruddy school, knowing how we keep him? I might as well get rid of the boy now; they wouldn't notice!"

"Vernon, you remember the note! We can't-"

"I can do whatever I want! We've lived in fear of those blasted freaks for ten years, Pet! Ten years!" The last words were shouted, and Harry flinched away from the kitchen door. Vernon's temper was frayed at best, and Harry did what he always did when it got this bad – he hid in his cupboard. There was no inside lock, but he hid in his cupboard, trying to block out the sounds of his Uncle's anger.

What had he ever done to deserve this? Was being born enough, as the family always said? He doubted it. Then again, with a drunk and a whore for parents, it could be like the sin of the parents being stuck with the child. Or something. Was there something he could do to repent for that, he wondered? Not that he was religious or anything; although the Dursleys went to church on Sundays like the "good Anglican family" they were, he'd never been allowed within half a mile of the place since he was such a no-good freak. But there had to be something… something he could do to abolish whatever "sin" there was that made him this way.

Though he knew nothing of religion, Harry was a firm believer in karma. So, when the cupboard door was opened viciously enough for it to smack against the wall, Harry knew there must be _some_ reason why he was victim to so much misfortune.

He also knew that he wanted _desperately_ to be away from there.

His head smacked against the small doorway as Vernon yanked him forward by his shirt collar, and Harry knew no more.

* * *

The crackle of lightning was the first sign that the Monks of Djose Temple received that something was happening. The Head Monk was on the temple grounds feeding monkeys with some of the disciples, those who showed no proficiency in the art of summoning, which happened to be _all of them, as he had been intimating at the time. The first crack of thunder nearly sent him to his knees._

Two disciples, Adal and Zett, were quick to catch the Head Monk while the rest spun around in awe. Great stones burst from the walls of the temple, held aloft by lightning currents, the occasional thunderous boom lending to their reality.

"There is a summoner in the Fayth!" The cry could be heard rising up all across the grounds. It was not so strange an event – Djose Temple was a regular stop for summoners on their pilgrimages - but with the Calm still going they hadn't seen any new summoners since High Summoner Braska. Moreover, no one had _seen_ a summoner enter the grounds. The Head Monk would have sensed any aeons' connection approaching the temple, the blessing of Ixion granting him the ability he'd honed for decades in his service at the temple.

Actually, no one at all had entered the temple grounds in the past week, since the blitzball tournament had ended, with both the Ronso and Guado teams praying for a safe journey home.

Freeing himself from the grasps of the children, the Head Monk made his way to the temple, the doors of which were swiftly opened to grant him the swiftest access. Lightning arced between the rods set in the entrance hall, and the monks scattered within, including the guard at the door to the Cloister, were just as perplexed as those outside had been.

"Summoners, with me," he growled low, his aged voice too weak to carry far. The three temple summoners, all sprier than he, would aid his progression through the Trials to discover _what_ precisely was going on. How could a summoner have gotten down there? "Are all the Trainees accounted for?"

"Aye, sir," Elln, the eldest at 53, who was in charge of the trainees at this hour, stated quickly, brows furrowed. "They wait with the priestesses in the North Hall." A stiff nod came from each of the other temple summoners. As tradition dictated, each temple summoner was gifted in a different technique of combat – Elln used black magic, Tal, only 17 years old, was a swordsman, and Jona a spearman – while the Head Monk could, in his old age, use only white magic. He lacked the strength even to summon his patron aeon at this point.

Once assured that they were prepared for the invading party, the monks made their way into the Cloister. All the traps were already set off, leaving the path clear to the Fayth; there was no sign of the Trials being cleared by human (or guado or ronso or any other) hands, as if Ixion himself wanted them to make their way to the bowels of temple in all haste.

Spurred on by the electricity in the air, Jona took point as they entered the atrium before the Fayth. No guardians stood watch, indeed, no person nor signs of persons were present. Without bidding, the door to the Fayth slid open and the summoners waited for what would emerge.

A full minute had passed before the Head Monk placed his hand on Jona's arm, causing the spearman to step aside that his superior might pass him by. The stairs were a battle quickly defeated, even with old age long since set in, and the Head Monk entered the Chamber of the Fayth. It was better that he, old and decrepit as he was, should face the potential danger within the room rather than the younger summoners.

Old eyes squinted in the dim light emanating from the stone dome on the floor that contained the Fayth. No person kneeled before it to beg Ixion's favor, yet the Fayth's spirit hovered over the stone, a mere shade of a man who smiled wanly at the elderly monk before nodding. "Do not let him sleep," he half-whispered before the light dimmed further and the shade faded.

It was at that moment that the Head Monk saw the figure curled on its side like a slumbering babe lay atop the Fayth.

The figure was small, only a child of perhaps 9 years, possibly as many as twelve if he was from one of the poorer families. Lit only by the glow of the Fayth he lay upon, he looked deathly pale, his eyes dark and only half open. A nest of dark hair cast strange shadows about him, like Ixion's own mane and, as the Head Monk stepped further forward, allowing his subordinates access to the Chamber of the Fayth, he saw a small abnormality upon the child's brow, though what could not be said. A scar of some sort, perhaps.

Dressed in strange garments many times too large for his small frame, the boy looked fragile. How could he have made it into the very heart of the temple, unaided as he was? Undetected and obviously hurting.

"Tal, Jona, I require assistance," the Head Monk bit out, voice uncertain. Perhaps out of the sickly green glow of Ixion's crystal he would better see the child. To make sure that what ailed him – something in his head, perhaps, given Ixion's warning about sleep – could be fixed with white magic.

The warrior monks rushed in, Elln bringing up the rear, all ready for a fight, but stopped when they saw their leader, unharmed, with a child at his feet.

"Let us be quick. Lord Ixion has spoken, this child is in our charge. Come."

* * *

"I don't understand," Harry sighed. He had been in the strange circular room for nearly a week now, healing. His birthday would be tomorrow, if he recalled right. He remembered giving his uncle the post, hiding in his cupboard, his uncle finally deciding to give him the beating that was always threatened… and nothing.

It was like the incident with the school roof. One minute he was going to be squashed like an ant, the next he was somewhere else. Only this time instead of ending up 15 feet higher up than he should have been, Harry had found himself with an aching head, unable to focus even with his glasses, in a dark room. The floor had lit up suddenly green below him, and a man in a sort of old fashioned sailor's costume was standing above him. Whatever happened after was a blur, though he recalled the four men who took him to what he was later told were the Halls of Healing in "Djose Temple".

And now they were both trying to explain things to him, but also wrest an explanation from him. He did his best, but it seemed like half the things he said they didn't understand, and there were so many things they said, as if he should know, that he just _didn't_.

"Sir, maybe I could try?" Of the four men Harry had met, it was the youngest who spoke. He wore a sword at his side – and wasn't _that_ odd, though not so much as the man who carried a spear, or the old man in green and gold robes – and of the four wore clothes the least odd to Harry, though the clothes were still alien. "I mean, not to undermine you or anything," the swordsman, Tal, hastened to add, "but I don't think he knows much of anything, and maybe I could try? Just teach him from scratch?"

"How would you even know where 'scratch' begins, Tal? Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, it's amazing you managed to make Temple Summoner at all," the second to oldest looking man said. His hair was peppered with gray and thin, and his clothing was extremely loose about him.

Tal didn't rise to tat bait. "I don't know, but I'd still try. You and the Head Monk can't even seem to get past the fact the kid said magic doesn't exist. Maybe someone who doesn't use it would be better off is all."

The eldest released a breath of air. "Tal is correct, Elln. Take your chance, Tal, and if there is no progress by the morrow, we shall resume our own attempts. Be kind to the child; he bears Ixion's own mark."

The three elders left, leaving Harry with only the swordsman, who couldn't have been out of college yet, if he had gone.

"Well, um," Tal scratched the back of his head. "I guess we start from scratch. You speak common, so there's a start. You aren't Al Bhed. Unless you were made by the fayth, you must be a hume _summoned_ by the fayth, so…" he paused. "Right. Scratch. I guess… what's your name? I mean, if you've got one. By Yevon I can't believe we didn't ask you yet. And, uh, anything else I should know?"

"Harry Potter," Harry answered. They said that word a lot, "fayth". But they said it with a reverence that made Harry think that perhaps they were not merely talking of having faith in God or whatever it was Christianity was based on. They said "Yevon" a lot too. "I'm ten, but I'm going to be eleven soon. Tomorrow I think but I'm not sure. I don't really know how long it's been since I… got here."

"Five days," Tal answered, waiting for Harry to go on.

"Um… well, I live with my aunt and uncle, and my cousin Dudley," Harry paused and added uncertainly, "in Surrey?" When Tal's face didn't show any sign of recognition, he added, "England?" And, finally, "surely you've heard of _Europe_?"

"Can't say I have," Tal's eyes sparked with a something Harry couldn't name. "And I guess… Does Spira mean anything to you? Zanarkand? Yevon?" Harry shook his head to all of the above. "Sin?"

"Well my aunt and uncle said that sin is a thing that people who don't believe in God have, or who don't go to church, or believe in witch craft, or do bad things," Harry paused. "Sin is why bad things happen to people. If something bad happens to you it means you must be a sinner, even if you don't know it, it means you did something God told you not to do."

"That's…" Tal tilted his head, short hair flopping slightly as he did. "Huh. Yeah, I guess starting from scratch means 'from scratch'. I'll try to explain as I go along, but if you need extra explanation just tell me. Everyone knows these things, so I don't know how to start from nothing, but I'll try. It started more than a thousand years ago…"

And Harry listened. He listened as Tal explained the war between the Machina city of Zanarkand, now a holy land, and the people of Bevelle. He told of how the use of powerful machina, machines, weapons that could wipe out dozens of people all at once, and the useless bloodshed and lack of sendings – the way people got to heaven – created a monster. The monster was called Sin, because it was born from the sins of humes, humans, from their desire for war. It crushed the entire city of Zanarkand in one night, unhindered by the powerful machina at the peoples' disposal.

He told of the teachings of Yevon, which told how to live a good life, and how once all the people of Spira lived by those teachings – Hume, Guado, Ronso, and even Al Bhed (though he did not explain what any of these meant) – only then could Sin be vanquished. Until then it was the job of summoners to temporarily defeat Sin, to bring the Calm.

"But it doesn't last long, usually," Tal explained. "Sometimes Sin is only gone for a few weeks, more often a few months. And even when it comes back, it takes a while to really get strong enough to start attacking. If we're lucky, Sin is 'gone' for years at a time. We've been… very lucky, this time. High Summoner Braska, with the aid of Sir Auron, Sir Jecht, and the Final Aeon, defeated Sin going on six years ago, and the only reports of Sin are far to the North, not attacking anything more than passing boats, should they wander too near. This is the longest Calm we've had, on record. But Sin will be back to its old ways any day now, so we still need to train summoners. Hopefully Sin's rampage will end quickly, and we can keep the death toll down."

Then Tal explained the basic concept of what summoning was, what a fayth was, though the technique to create them had been lost in the past few centuries and none of the aeons were talking. He told Harry about the basics of various magics in Spira, and explained how, through the use of the Sphere Grid and the spheres that were knowledge of the dead solidified when a fiend was defeated, one could learn magic and further their own mastery of techniques.

"Not that the Grid is a physical thing. I mean it sort of is but… well, let me show you," Tal withdrew a small bag from his side, filled with tiny crystal orbs. "These are the spheres. I can't actually use all of them, you need a certain amount of real world experience for things to really click. But I found a good one recently, clearing the courtyard of fiends, and even a beginner can use it. Take it."

The moment the orb sat in Harry's hand, he knew exactly what it did, what it could do, and how to use it. In his head he could see an endless field of knowledge, even though he couldn't understand any of it. But with the tiny sphere in his hand, he could feel a handful of knowledge waiting for him to grasp and take as his own. It wasn't very much, but he could reach out, and without realizing he was doing it, he moved his hand to where his mind knew the knowledge rested, and his eyes could not see.

Then the sphere was gone. The endless knowledge had vanished. And in its place was the tiniest flicker of information, at least by comparison. He could taste the word on his tongue, and all he had to do was let it take the power it wanted –

"Don't do it, Harry, not in here," Tal's voice brought him back to reality. "I'll take you out into the courtyard when we're done talking. But for now, what spell did you learn?"

"_A flash of death, sky's flame and agony; energy and power," _Harry whispered the words the sphere had told him. "I can summon _lightning_?"

Tal smiled. And the lesson continued.

* * *

There were many more lessons after that, though rarely with Tal. The elder monks, though they appreciated Tal's effort in laying the groundwork, did not rely on him to teach Harry everything they wanted him to know. They didn't trust Tal to tell Harry about what they believed the lightning mark on his brow meant, that he was chosen by Ixion.

Of course, Harry _tried_ explaining that he had had the scar since he was a baby, when his parents died, but they were adamant that the aeons often chose favorites, and marked them such from a young age. That Harry's scar was so obviously a bolt of lightning and his eyes almost the precise color of the fayth below them made it obvious that he was destined to be a High Summoner in his lifetime, perhaps even at a very young age. He had been dropped on their very doorstep within _days_ of when he became old enough to begin training as a disciple of Yevon, after all.

Harry almost liked the idea of having some sort of epic destiny. The idea that he, Harry the Fairy, the freak, the _boy_, could grow up and harness power the likes of which the Dursleys couldn't imagine, and destroy Sin itself… It was a pipe dream, he thought, but it was better than going back to the Dursleys. Not that he was even sure such a thing would be possible. He still didn't know how he got to "Spira", which was not even on_ Earth_, even if the monks said that Ixion and Yevon brought him to them. And going back…

Uncle Vernon said he was going to kill him. Not lock him in the cupboard for a week. Not starve him. Not cuff him around the ears. _Kill him_.

_If I have to die, I think saving the world is a good way to go,_ Harry thought to himself. That was why he accepted the training. Why he took with such fervor to the lessons for black magic and fighting with an ornate, yet sturdy, staff longer than he was tall. Why he drank in every word in the lessons given to the desciples. Why he gave his all in the tests that were meant to help train them to be capable of housing the connection to fayth.

If Harry was honest with himself, he had never once considered the idea that he would grow old. He had believed the words that his aunt and uncle told him day in and day out. That he was like his parents, doomed to be worth nothing no matter how hard his good, loving family tried to turn him into a good, loving person. He was inherently bad, he was a sinner from birth, and neither the grace of God nor the love of his blood family could redeem him.

Only, here he could defeat sin. He could defeat the literally embodiment of sinfulness, even if the concept of sinning was different in Spira than in England. Some things were the same of course, that stealing and cheating and killing were wrong. But whereas on Spira no one used machina and everyone was charitable who could afford to be, the many religions of earth all had different silly rules for things not to use or eat, and where the Dursleys could certainly afford to be charitable, they were far from it.

"If I give my life to save Spira, I'll have done something," he told himself late at night in his bunk. "I want to. I want to be better than my parents were. I won't let them hold me back." Harry tried to sound resolute, but there was no one to hear him but the pile of sleeping monkeys in the corner. He rolled over to sleep, and to think on that day's lessons.

He was nearly fourteen by the time he made the first true step toward his dream.

* * *

"Hello?" Harry called into the dark room. It was barely illuminated by the glowing green floor, though not much less than the Cloister had been. It was silly, he thought, that the cloister and fayth of the Aeon of Thunder would be so dark. Would it be like this when he went to Kilika for Ifrit, too?

"Young summoner, it has been almost three years, hasn't it?" The ghostly form that rose from the crystal, increasing the light in the room, was the same as when Harry had been concussed and fuzzy-headed on his arrival to Spira.

"It has," Harry answered, making the customary bow to the fayth. It was an odd, ceremonial sort of thing, but he flowed through the motions of the Prayer of Yevon with practiced ease. One of his first lessons was to perform the prayer for days until he could do it flawlessly, fluidly, even when so exhausted he wanted nothing more than to collapse. It was only then that he was taught basic staff techniques.

"You have grown," the ghost again stated the obvious. At thirteen, Harry was finally at a normal height and size for his age, having been well fed and trained in his time at Djose Temple. His hair was the same length as ever, but held up and away from his face by a bandana as was common among Spirans from the islands. He wore the traditional robes of a Black Mage of Djose, though under his garb was much less ceremonial.

After all, if Ixion agreed to take him, Harry's pilgrimage would begin that very same day.

"Lord Ixion, Stallion of the Storms, I come to seek your aid and begin my pilgrimage, in Yevon's name," Harry stated, maintaining his bowed state. He watched the spirit slowly walk toward him, circling him without feet touching the ground.

"You do not truly believe in Yevon's teachings, Harry Potter, it is useless for you to invoke his name here," the fayth intoned. The hairs along Harry's spine stood on end, hearing the truth so close, and from a being that, he felt suddenly, perhaps _should not be_.

"A summoner not of Yevon would be sacrilege," Harry said. His voice did not show his lack of conviction, but the fayth would know, either way.

"I think a summoner not of Yevon is what we need, in these times," the fayth's tone was lighter. Not the least reprimanding, nor joking. Harry rose from his bow. "The Sin that is is stronger than any before, and we fayth fear that is our fault. We thought that we dreamed an end to Sin. Even now there are those who believe our new dream will end it."

"But not you?" This was not how communion with the fayth was meant to go. He was supposed to pray, perhaps for hours, and convince the fayth that he was true to Yevon, that he would be deserving of power.

"It does not do to dwell in dreams, even as a dreamer myself," Ixion sighed. He removed his tri-corner hat, and ran a hand through his tied hair. "I will dream with the others, but I fear that this dream will not be strong enough, and if it is, that we may face only the same as we are now. No. I will look to Humes this day. Harry Potter, I grant you my power, that of Ixion, Lord of Storms, who 1200 years ago was a pirate and sacrificed to create this fayth. Wield my might, as my chosen. Be on your pilgrimage, Summoner."

There was no jolt of energy, nor draining of it as the Temple Summoners had warned. Only the sudden feeling of connection, the knowledge of the precise dance and words that would bring forth Ixion, and how to wield his power.

Harry left the cloister, deep in thought, and barely noticed the celebration in the courtyard for his success as he readied himself to leave.

**Author's Note: This is a story in 3 parts, each part consisting of several chapters. Part I is The Pilgrim. Part II is The Wizard. Part III is The Chosen One.**

**_Pairings_ in the story are as follows: Chappu/Lulu. That's it. Harry will NOT be paired (I had considered Harry/Rikku, but decided against it). And Harry and Chappu will be the main characters so any side pairings (of which there will be only one – Tidus/Yuna) don't really get any/much attention. Sorry to burst any bubbles. Not sorry about the little information dump of my headcanon on how Sphere Grids work in reality (I love translating game mechanics into reality).**

******I wanted to get Never Sleep, Broken Past, The Green Word, and Founding Father all done before posting anything new but that didn't happen. I hope to get to work on any of those at some point though. As is I had 4 chapters of this complete and thought it time to present.**

**********So… I started this in, like, 2010. Seriously, the first half of this chapter is from 2010, as is the whole concept. I should be working on Never Sleep. And my nuzlocke comic. And character designs. And studying for midterms and writing essays and a host of other things. Instead I'm writing fanfiction about a game I haven't played in years (I let a friend borrow it, got it back midway through chapter 3).**

**I started a tumblr for fanfiction things. I will use it to post snippets of future chapters, character art (not top quality but decent) as well as chapters of things I will likely never finish. I WILL finish this, I have it plotted from start to finish, it just has to actually happen is all.**


	2. I: The Pilgrim: The Guardian

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes. The Religious themes do NOT reflect the beliefs of the author.

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part I: The Pilgrim**

Chapter 2: The Guardian

"I can't go any further than this," Tal apologized. His eyes were glued to his feet, hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword.

The docks of Luca were an impressive sight to behold, not least because of the ocean. It had been only three days prior that Harry first caught of glimpse of the sea from Mushroom Rock Road, and it entranced him. He had never seen an ocean on Earth, what with the Dursleys always leaving him with Mrs Figg when they went on day trips.

"I understand, Tal, I knew it from the start," Harry tried to smile at the man, for he _was_ a man now and not just a teenager with a sword and an aeon. "Illa said I would find what I'm looking for in a guardian on Besaid, and I'll believe her. I'll go straight to Besaid, and when I come back North on my pilgrimage, I'll stop by the temple with an offering and some fine Kilikan wine."

Not that monks were allowed to drink wine of course, but Tal brightened a bit. Harry had caught him bartering for a bottle some months prior and kept it a secret from the new Head Monk, Elln, on his behalf.

"Don't buy anything you don't need, but never skimp on potions, not unless you finally take to white magic," Tal advised. Harry only smiled and nodded. "If there's a fiend you can't take down with black magic you should probably just run. You run fast enough I don't think anything short of a cactaur could catch you, not even a Dingo."

"Yes Tal," Harry nodded. The fact that there was a fiend called a "dingo" in Spira, which was in ways similar to the animal back on Earth, had amused him at first, though his first encounter with one of the off-strains had ruined the thought. They were _very_ fast, and while Harry had quick reflexes for mage, and he was a fast runner after a childhood of fleeing from Dudley, he was fairly certain a Dingo could overtake him.

_Then again, given enough speed spheres and practice sprinting I might be able to change that_, he mused. It was a bit of a sore point with him that his training had focused so much on Black magic. Not that he didn't love his spells, but he felt it was somehow more _him_ to defend and dodge than to outright blow things up. Even if he couldn't make the mental leap from black to white magic anyway. It was likely due to his years of avoiding Dudley.

"I'll see you soon, alright? I should have Valefor and Ifrit in a few days time, and I will be back in Djose in little more than a week," Harry tried to put on a brave face, though he felt he failed. "You'll barely even miss me."

Of course, that wasn't true. Tal was the closest thing Harry had to family in Spira, but as a temple summoner he couldn't be a guardian. It was already bad enough that he had escorted Harry to Luca. Temple summoners had _duties_, duties which Harry didn't fully understand, but they were important. That none of the guardian applicants to Djose had been complimentary to Harry was no mere fluke however, and Harry would find his answer on the tiny island of Besaid.

"Just go, the boat's going to leave any minute," Tal sighed. He reached out to give Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "This is the city, everything runs like clockwork. They won't hold off the boat just so we can talk."

It was true. The sailors were already preparing to untie the boat and load the gangplank. Harry gave Tal's forearm a quick reciprocating squeeze and darted to the waiting ship to Kilika, barely pausing to hand his fare to one of the sailors as he nearly flew up the gangplank. He came to rest on board the deck while a few sailors chuckled at his expense and continued about their business. Harry then darted to the portside stern while the boat started its drift.

From that position he waved to Tal. He waved until the highest points in Luna were mere pinpricks on the horizon.

_I won't be alone for long_, Harry reassured himself as he drew away from the rail. He was going straight to Besaid, he could go through Kilika when he had his guardian-to-be. And then he wouldn't be alone, he wouldn't have this knot in his chest.

Maybe he would tell his guardian what Ixion had said, about how the Sin of now, the Sin which had recently laid waste to Lake Macalania during the Winter Festival a few months ago killing near a thousand people, was stronger, or would be stronger, than the previous Sin, whatever that meant. What Ixion had said about dreams, too, even if Harry didn't understand what he meant.

Perhaps, even, that even after training for nearly three years as a summoner disciple, after being chosen by Ixion, after truly becoming a summoner, Harry was not a Yevonite. He wanted to believe. He wanted desperately to believe in Yevon, in the dangers of machina, in Sin's nature, but he couldn't believe in it no matter how hard he tried.

If only the Al Bhed used forbidden machina, why would Sin go after anyone else? In fact, he had heard that Al Bhed were rarely attacked by Sin when compared to any other villages. Even if no one knew where the Al Bhed lived, it was the Al Bhed themselves who would occasionally boast about it. Harry had even asked the man at the Al Bhed travel agency, and he had admitted it.

So, if Sin was truly there to punish the world for sinning, why were the supposed sinners practically untouched while the faithful weren't?

Harry tried to believe. He tried to push aside doubts. But he was not born to Spira, to Yevon.

Harry arrived in Kilika that evening, and Besaid at high noon the following day.

* * *

"Come on Chappu, _please_?" Yuna looked up at the young man who might as well have been her elder brother with large eyes, waiting. "I don't have much time out of the temple right now. _Please_?"

Chappu smiled at her, but shook her off his arm with little effort. "Sorry Yuna, I promised Luzzu I'd talk to him today, about… well, I'll tell you later, okay?"

It wasn't that Yuna wanted to come off as spoiled of course. She was fifteen years old, soon to be sixteen. She wasn't a child. But Wakka and Lulu were both off being guardians to Summoner Allara, on the pilgrimage to Zanarkand. They had been gone more than a month already, so she thought they must be to Bevelle by now, probably even Mt Gagazet.

If they were alive.

But Yuna shook off that thought. They _had_ to be alive. Well, logically they might not be. Logically they could have fallen to fiends or even Sin sometime in the past month. But Wakka had promised to return in time for the Blitzball tournament in Luca, to see the Aurochs through to the finals, and Yuna had faith that he would return. And who knew how far they really were? Yuna hadn't left Besaid since she arrived nine years ago.

That said, Chappu was the only member of Yuna's family still on Besaid at the moment, save Kimahri, but Kimahri didn't talk much, and he certainly didn't like playing games, even with Yuna. And Yuna, as a disciple of Besaid Temple, had little time to do anything other than train. Unlike the other girls her age in the village, she lacked the time to gossip while weaving cloth, or even to go shell hunting.

And, as the only Summoner disciple in Besaid, even her lessons were lonely. Life as the daughter of a High Summoner wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"Alright, Chappu," Yuna sighed. Chappu was only a couple of years older than her, but he could get so serious sometimes. He was always smiling, but when he was intent on something… well, Yuna wasn't blind to why he was talking to Luzzu of the Crusaders.

And then he was gone and Yuna was left to sit on the steps in front of the temple. Perhaps she should go inside and get more lessons on white magic instead, but she wanted her moment to sulk in the early summer sun.

There was the click of wood-soled boots to her left, and Yuna glanced over to see the figure climbing the steps. There wasn't much to observe of course. He was younger than her, and not a member of the village. His hair was held up by a bandanna, much like Chappu and Wakka wore theirs, and glasses rested on his nose. His clothing was green primarily, with enough gold accents that Yuna slowly realized he was likely a Summoner. After all, only Summoners and _very_ well off merchants wore terribly ornate clothing, and it was obvious which of the two was more likely to come to Besaid.

He kept moving and Yuna turned her head to keep watching. She hadn't realized anyone could be a Summoner that young. He was at _least_ a year younger than her, and she had started training at the temple as a disciple at the age of twelve, only one year later than she should have been allowed if Kimahri wasn't such a worry wart. And yet here was this boy at least one year younger than her, perhaps more given he was still rather short, already a Summoner when she wasn't going to be allowed to go through the Cloister until after her seventeenth birthday.

How odd.

The boy continued walking to the temple, though he removed his pack from his shoulders and took from it a long dark green robe. He managed to remove his staff from his back, put on the robe and his pack, and take the staff in hand properly while still keeping his pace with ease. Yuna almost giggled at that; how much would he have to practice? A lot, she imagined.

At length she stood up to follow him. It wasn't often that summoners came to Besaid. Of course, any summoner intent on completing their pilgrimage would, but many would only take the aeon of their patron temple and become a temple summoner, or they would give up before finishing the trek south to Besaid. Still, watching them enter and exit the Cloister was always a spot of interest.

When Yuna entered the temple, the boy was speaking with the Head Monk.

"I know it's a little unorthodox, however-" the boy's voice betrayed his youth, but it was resolute.

"I'm sorry, Summoner Harry, but the Cloister can be a dangerous place to navigate alone," the Head Monk didn't sound even half apologetic, however. "And, should your communion prove too tiresome, not having any on hand to aid you is irresponsible in the highest degree. I cannot allow it."

The boy deflated somewhat. "I understand, sir, but I am a summoner on pilgrimage. That I do not have a guardian was no trouble in Djose, when I went through my first Cloister."

"Perhaps not in Ixion's temple, as his obvious Chosen, but Valefor is a very different matter," the Head Monk huffed. "Either you will gain the temporary aid of a member of our village, or you will have to wait until our local guardians have returned. And they are _both_ on pilgrimage at this time."

The boy didn't speak for some moments. "Very well. I will wait, as long as I must." He gave the prayer to the Head Monk and made his way to the exit. The very same exit which Yuna was standing by, watching the exchange.

"Um, excuse me, you're a Summoner?" Yuna spoke up as he approached. The boy came to a stop before her, nodding. Standing side by side, Yuna noticed he was indeed short, shorter than her by a little. Certainly young. "How old are you?"

"I'm 13," the boy responded. "Summoner Harry." He rested his staff in the crook of his elbow as he performed the prayer, which Yuna returned.

"I'm Yuna, a disciple," though she pointedly did not add that she was High Summoner Braska's daughter, there was a flicker of recognition on Harry's gaze. "The local guardians are Wakka and Lulu. I grew up with them. They've been on pilgrimage for almost a month, but I know where we could go to find you a temporary guardian to get through the trial."

The idea of a temporary guardian was foreign, but not entirely unheard of. It was traditional for summoners to have guardians, but Yuna had heard of one or two throughout the ages who went without. None of them went on to become High Summoners, but one key example was Grand Maester Mika. He made it all the way to Zanarkand, alone, but did not attain the Final Aeon. Regardless, the man was revered and a wonderful leader for all of Yevon and Spira.

So perhaps the boy (and by Yevon he _was_ just a boy, Yuna had barely started learning basic white magic by his age) was going to be just as great. Or he would fail. Though how someone could lack all the close family and friends waiting to become guardians was a mystery. Yuna had extracted promises from Wakka, Lulu, and Kimahri and a "maybe" from Chappu for her future pilgrimage.

"Is it the Crusaders' lodge in town?" Harry asked.

"Yes, and I know Crusaders are separate from Yevon, but they really are all good Yevonites," Yuna smiled and reached out a hand. "I'm sure I can introduce you to someone who will be willing to go into the Cloister with you." Not that Yuna knew many of the Crusaders, but Chappu was there now, and so was Luzzu. Either of them would be fine in the Cloister. Yuna wished she knew what the Cloister truly entailed, but that was forbidden.

"You have my thanks," Harry performed the prayer again, and then waved an arm for her to lead. Instead, Yuna took the arm in question and walked side by side with him.

"I overheard you with the Head Monk, you're from Djose Temple? Why don't you have a guardian?" Yuna asked as they started down the walk between columns.

"I trained at Djose Temple, from my eleventh birthday," Harry confirmed. "But there aren't really any settlements that way anymore, not since Djose village was wiped out ten years ago. The survivors split between Luca and the temple, and it never got rebuilt. The people of Luca live too far away to make a connection with, and even though Guadosalem is closer to Djose temple, they consider Macalania their patron, so we don't get visitors from there either. The only people to become close to are other disciples and the Temple Summoners, who cannot become guardians.

"But… well, Besaid has a Temple Seer, correct?" Yuna nodded her answer, thinking of Kalim. He was a strange man, but his intuition was always right. "The Djose Seer said that I would find an appropriate guardian in Besaid, since none of the guardian applicants to the temple suited me. Well, her precise words were that 'your guardian awaits you on the Southern isle' and then I got her to clarify that she meant Besaid."

"'Awaits you'… that must mean it's someone who's already here, so it can't be one of the already registered guardians." Yuna hummed, tapping her lip with her finger. "Well, we'll just have to find out now, won't we? Come on, the lodge is over on the right!"

Harry put up no resistance as she pulled him into the lodge, which was the largest structure in the village outside of the temple itself. A few of the Crusaders were sitting at the table by the bar, chatting with some villagers who were taking a break from foraging, chatting amicably. Luzzu and Chappu were in the bunking area, from what Yuna could see, talking near the small Sphere Recorder at the back.

"We'll talk to Luzzu and Chappu first," Yuna decided. Harry only nodded as she led him as before, albeit more sedately. It was rare any women went into the lodge, aside from Lulu on occasion.

The instant Luzzu noticed Yuna and her new friend, he held up and hand to halt his conversation with Chappu. It only took them a moment to discern from Harry's ornate robe and staff that he was a summoner as they both performed prayer, which Harry managed to return even with Yuna's hand still on his arm.

"Greetings Summoner, and you too Yuna," Luzzu was eyeing them oddly. Which wasn't entirely unwarranted, and Chappu's gaze was a bit odder. "What brings you to the Crusader's Lodge?"

"He nee-" Yuna stopped herself. It wasn't her place to speak for the Summoner she barely knew, after all. "Sorry."

"It's alright, Yuna," Harry smiled at her in forgiveness and turned to the men. "My name is Harry Potter of Djose Temple. I recently became a Summoner, gaining Ixion's aid four days ago. I lack a guardian, however, and am required to have one to enter the Besaid Cloister. I have been advised that Djose is… _unique_ in its allowance of Summoners and Summoners to be to enter alone. I was hoping to borrow one of your number for the Besaid Cloister and perhaps for Kilika as well?"

While Harry's voice was hopeful, Yuna now knew that he didn't really mean that. He was hoping to find someone who would be a _real_ guardian for him.

"I'll do it," Chappu volunteered. "I'm not a Crusader yet, and I think Yuna can go on without me for a few days, ya?" Yuna smiled widely up at him, but her heart sank a bit. If Chappu was Harry's guardian, did that mean he couldn't be _hers_ when she went about her trials? But, then, pilgrimages didn't take long, and whether they succeeded or turned back, Chappu was sure to be in Besaid again by the time Yuna began her pilgrimage, be it in Calm or otherwise.

"Praise be to Yevon," Harry said, though this time his hands did not perform the prayer. It sounded a little strange, the way he said it, but Yuna let it slide.

She followed Harry and Chappu to the temple and watched them enter the Cloister. And she waited.

* * *

"I should be out shortly," Harry assured his new guardian when they arrived outside of the Chamber of the Fayth. "There were no complications when I obtained Ixion's aid, but the Head Monk informed me that Valefor may be more taxing on me."

"Sure thing," Chappu gave a thumbs up and sat down to wait as the steel veil between chamber and antechamber rose.

As Harry entered, the crystal glowed orange and slowly the form of a girl, hardly any older than Harry himself, rose to stand at its center. He fell into the well practiced prayer.

"Lady Valefor, I come seeking your aid," he informed her, even though she would know already.

The girl's face was bland, and her style of dress nearly modern in terms of Besaid fashion. Even in the orange glow of her crystal, she felt both less alive and more human than Ixion's fayth had only a few days previous.

"The Summoner who is Not of Spira," she acknowledged, "Chosen of Ixion. The Non-Believer."

"Is that a problem?" Harry wondered aloud. He wanted to know. He _had_ to know. Were the teachings really important to destroying Sin?

"Sin's warped fayth calls for release, it calls for death." It wasn't much of a reply to Harry's question. "Yevon will not kill Sin. The Final Aeon may kill _this_ Sin, but Sin will return. The cycle of death continues."

"Ixion said that 'this' Sin is stronger than it was before," Harry hedged, uncertain. "Can you tell me what he meant?" He doubted it though. So far she was speaking in riddles.

He was right.

"Sin is stronger. A dream of the fayth has the power of the fayth. A fayth, dreamed by all the fayth, more powerful than any fayth. It will take a stronger dream to destroy." She was very decidedly unhelpful and, and unlike with Ixion, Harry could feel the slow drain on his energy it took to speak with her.

"Ixion said I can beat this Sin, so does that mean that after my Calm, Sin won't be as strong?" He had to _know_.

"There will be no Calm of High Summoner Harry," Valefor looked at him with her dead eyes, the most direct statement yet. "But you are welcome to try."

With her dark eyes boring into his, Harry felt wind ruffle his hair and feathers against his skin as a bond was forged. The girl vanished back within her crystal, and Harry's knees nearly gave way. That experience had certainly been… _different_.

"I'll prove you wrong, Valefor," Harry vowed. He stood another few seconds to steady his stance before turning and exiting the Chamber. He stumbled a bit on the stairs, but Chappu was suddenly there, holding him up.

"That was fast, from what Lulu told me," Chappu said, seemingly uncertain. "Did you get it, then?"

"Yes, Valefor's power is mine to command," Harry sighed. "Let's depart. I could use the air."

* * *

It was toward the end of the boat ride to Kilika the next morning that Chappu considered that maybe he might like to be more than a temporary guardian and was thrown head first into guardianship. He was swinging his sword on the top level of the ship where normally passengers might enjoy the sea breeze and shade. However no one was inclined to such that morning, and there were children on the deck playing with a Blitzball.

"That's an interesting sword," Harry's voice floated from the direction of the ladder, breaking Chappu from his focus on the warm-up.

"I know, but it's the style used by Sir Jecht, when he was the guardian of Yuna's father," Chappu grinned, displaying the sword proudly. It wasn't exactly the same; Sir's Jecht's sword was reported as having a red blade, as if always bathed in blood. Chappu's on the other hand was plain steel. It was technically classed as a long sword, but the broad base and tip that hooked like a fish hook showed it was plainly not the case. Likewise, the hilt was only hand-and-a-half rather than the two-handed normally used.

"It must be useful against quick enemies," Harry observed. "Catch a dingo in that hook and you can do some real damage."

"Mm, it's true, and I'm a speed-type fighter, so it works out in the end, ya?" Chappu swung the blade again, loving the sound as it whistled through the air. The only thing he regretted about his desire to join the Crusaders was that he wouldn't be allowed to use Sir Jecht's signature blade. Crusaders used standard long swords and short swords, and throwing a hooked blade in, when the Crusaders often fought close together, was a bad idea.

And, as Luzzu had intimated in their conversation only the day before, if Chappu joined then there was an operation coming up. An operation where they would be working with Al Bhed, using Al Bhed machina no less, and attempting to fight Sin.

_If I have to die, it'll be doing something so Lulu can be safe_, Chappu promised himself. After all, what was the point of being with his girl when Sin could kill them, or their future kids, at any time? He would rather Lulu had a happy life with another man through a long Calm than get killed while he sat around doing nothing. She was a Guardian, after all, and Chappu was just… a fisherman, no good at blitz like Wakka, and Lulu still loved him.

"Do you know any magic?" Harry asked.

"Ah, well, not really? My girl Lulu tried teaching me a fire spell once, but it's not the same as using the grid, and the temple only teaches disciples," Chappu shrugged. "I never _really_ had the chance, y'know?"

"Well, um, as a gift when I was leaving Djose, the monks gave me a White Magic sphere." Harry opened a pouch on one of his belts, pulling out a fistful of condensed spheres before picking one out that was a pale green. "I don't know why, but I can't get the white ones to work for me. I don't know what sorts of fiends there are in the Kilika jungle, but I thought… maybe you could use it? To make things on the journey a little easier?"

It was a serious thing, to offer such a sphere to someone else. Or it was on Besaid, given that there weren't any fiends that dropped the really _good_ spheres. The Temple hoarded them, giving them only to the most promising disciples to help start them on the path to being a white mage. Sure, starting without them was possible, but it took _years_ of study.

They never would have considered giving one to a fisherman-cum-warrior.

And that was what made Chappu consider the idea of becoming a real Guardian to Harry, and not just for this short trip to Kilika. Harry was willing to give him such a gift, when they would be parting ways likely the coming morning.

Chappu swallowed something thick in his throat. The Code of the Guardian, the one his brother and girlfriend had both sworn, said that a Guardian would lay his life on the line for his summoner, no matter what. If Chappu took this, in Besaid there would be a debt owed. Not a debt worth his life, but certainly more than he was paying by simply helping the young summoner get to Kilika Temple and then back to the boat.

He had been on the edge of joining the Crusaders, because he wanted to make the world better for Lulu. Who was to say that joining a death charge against Sin was a better way to do that than becoming a guardian to kid with no one else in the world?

"If I take it… I'm going to follow you on this whole pilgrimage, ya?" Chappu wasn't really asking, but his gaze searched the boy's face for any sign of foul play.

There was only a smile. "That's your decision to make," Harry said. Like he would really give away the sphere for nothing more than the two days Chappu was taking out of his busy schedule of absolutely nothing.

_Beating heart, knitting flesh; crack of mended bone, pain receding_ –

Chappu made up his mind.

**Author's Note: Still working on this instead of Never Sleep.**

**Regarding the operation Chappu thinks about that Luzzu mentioned: this is canon. Operation Mi'ihen was not the first of its kind. As Wakka says, Chappu died while using Al Bhed Machina, as a Crusader, in the same general area as Operation Mi'ihen. **_**They have tried it before**_**. My headcanon of the difference is that Operation Mi'ihen a) had more support because it proved Sin could take damage from machina, b) had Maesters, warrior monks, and the chocobo knights present instead of just crusaders and Al Bhed, and c) the original Operation that Chappu was part of **_**didn't have a shit ton of sin spawn**_**. They relied on being a gathering of people, had boats in the harbor to draw it in, and waited for a week for Sin to pass by before attacking it from a distance and trying to take it down. It was stupid. And only slightly less stupid than the repeat hardly a year later.**

**Oh, and to reiterate from last time (since half the reviews had to do with it): HARRY IS NOT GETTING PAIRED. There will be side pairings in Part III, but Harry is not getting paired. At all. He will not date anyone. He's going to be too busy sacrificing himself or trying to get acclimated to things to notice girls/boys/whatever you think he'd be into. Chappu/Lulu and a little Tidus/Yuna as side pairings, that's it.**

**Harry gained Ixion on July 1st and left on pilgrimage on July 3rd. He reached Besaid on July 7th. The Luca tournament will take place on July 20th.**


	3. I: The Pilgrim: Flesh and Blood

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes.

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part I: The Pilgrim**

Chapter 3: Flesh and Blood

"I won't hold you to what you said on the boat," Harry informed his Guardian when they reached the antechamber of the Fayth. "I think by using what you learned so well already, you've already repaid what debt you may have owed me." Harry didn't quite feel the words even as they tumbled from his mouth end over end.

He didn't think Chappu owed him at _all_, honestly he didn't. The idea of anyone owing him, the Freak, _anything_ was laughable. Harry owed so many people already – the Priests of Djose who took him in being only half of the total number – that it didn't feel right to be on the other end of it.

"Are white magic spheres common on the mainland or something?" Chappu asked. His hook-bladed sword was strapped at his hip, stained slightly red from a lightning elemental he had managed to take the final blow against when it was shooting bolts too fast for Harry to counter. He seemed to take the stain as a token of pride. "On Besaid, they're more precious than if we found a whole boat filled with gil, ya? Only some of the priests at the temple know any magic, aside from my girl, and they don't teach it to anyone. And they don't leave town next to ever. You turned me into a healer, one who can leave town and heal myself any time, or others. That kind of gift isn't given _or_ received lightly, brudda."

Harry gave the man an appraising look. He knew that was the deciding factor, but…

"When I arrived at Djose temple, I was very confused. The Head Monk and the two senior Temple Summoners were constantly talking over me and wouldn't explain anything; I didn't know _anything_ it feels like now," Harry sighed. "It was only the youngest of the Temple Summoners, Tal, who really explained anything to me. He gave me a Black Magic Sphere when he barely knew me, because he wanted me to understand something, but I think… I think he was trusting me too. And I trusted you with that White Magic Sphere, too, because I know that whether you help me or you go back home and join the Crusaders…

"I know you'll do what's right. I think. I mean, it was a gift to me in the first place, but I just couldn't wrap my head around it, and the moment you expressed any interest I knew it was right. It would be hard to say no, right? If you think I was enticing you or anything, I wouldn't hold you to what you said."

Chappu was silent a moment. Then he undid the belt that held his sword, set it on the ground and leaned against the wall beside it. "You go into the Fayth, and I'll sit here and think, and we'll talk more on the way out, eh?"

Harry paused, thought, and then gave his not-Guardian a nod. Harry tried to have a level head, but he second guessed himself a lot. Chappu seemed so… grounded.

And he really _was_ a brilliant white mage. After learning cure on the boat that morning he had already managed to figure out a little more white magic without any help, curing Harry from the venom of a poisonous insect, and later casting a nul-shock spell _while attacking an elemental using only his blade_ without even realizing it.

Chappu grew in leaps and bounds from absolutely nothing. How could someone have let his talent be squandered away on fishing and dreams?

Red light poured from Ifrit's Fayth as a man of obvious islander descent in a Crusader's uniform pulled himself from the crystal. He was tall, but his shoulders were lean, as was the rest of him. As if he had been recruited by the Crusaders and never got the chance to train, to wield a sword, anything.

"Ifrit," Harry bowed low over his cupped hands. He had heard that Ifrit's Fayth was both humble and not. He would not suffer a title, claiming to have been little more than a peasant in his own life, but he did expect the respect deserved by any aeon sought out by a Summoner.

"Ixion's Chosen," the man acknowledged Harry with only a nod as befit his role. "You will not bring the Calm."

"So Lady Valefor said." Harry maintained his bow, waiting. "Ixion seemed to think differently."

"Ixion decries the merits of dreaming," Ifrit scoffed, "when it was dream that brought you to him. To dream is to create. All Fayth dream. And Sin was our greatest dream. Only dreams may cut dreams."

Harry frowned, still not looking up. _Dream _brought him to Djose Temple? That sounded… _wrong_. "Does that make me a dream?" The Fayth always spoke in riddles, it seemed. He just… he couldn't understand. Would Shiva do this? And Bahamut? When he arrived at the Fayth of the Final Aeon, would it wrap him in a cocoon of words and force him to fight his way out before he could flourish?

"No, you are flesh and blood, if not that of Spira," Ifrit sounded almost amused there. "Dream took you, but you are not _of_ dreams. Dreams may kill the greatest of men, but man can never harm dream, only keep it at bay. In waking hour, your nightmares still haunt."

_A flash of green light and a high cold laugh. The body of a girl broken on the ground._ _Slide of scales on leaves and _strike-

"I think you're wrong," Harry breathed out. "I may not understand what you're really saying, what this all has to do with Sin, but Ixion thinks I can do it. And Valefor is at least willing to let me try. Why can't you do the same?"

The young-looking crusader's chuckle was deeper than the rest of his voice. "I never said anything of the sort," Ifrit replied. "You are spirited, Summoner Without Faith. Perhaps one like you could turn Spira to Spirit instead of Spiral."

His spectral form jolted forward and into Harry's chest. Nearly toppling over from the force, Harry coughed for air. Stifling hot, boiling, hotter even than the fira spell he had learned. He needed water, and air.

With a measure of desperation, Harry yanked his ceremonial robe from his shoulders and fiddled at his waist for the water skin that awaited him. He hadn't been intending to refill it when they arrived, but now he was glad that the Temple Summoners had insisted. By the time it was at his lips, cold water flowing into his mouth and over his chin, Harry's knees were on the stone floor. They ached, but the water soothed him.

Ifrit laughed at him again. "Go. Shiva will want words with you."

Harry watched the specter sink back into the crystal, red glow dimming, and without further ado dumped the rest of the water skin over his head. He untied the band that held his hair up and out of his face, using the now soaking cloth to hold against his face, breathing through it. It felt like he was breathing smoke, but the water soothed his throat.

Not his favorite Fayth, but then Ifrit's form was that of a beast-like fiend and its element was the ever-burning flame. No one could wield flame's power without being touched by it.

It was some minutes before Harry felt he was able to stand again. The crystal had dimmed enough that he could hardly see at all, but the outline of the veil through which he would reach the antechamber was clearly defined in the darkness. He staggered out and fell into Chappu's waiting arms.

"What happened?" Chappu's voice was laced with concern as he set Harry on the floor and started casting cure on him. It relieved the ache but didn't help Harry's labored breathing.

"I… I think Ifrit liked me," Harry coughed out, trying not to laugh. "Could you try nul-blaze for me?" Chappu acknowledged the request with some enthusiasm, eager to see if he couldn't discover the workings of another new spell. While there was no flame to ward off, the almost-smoke in Harry's lungs dissipated as soon as Chappu figured it out a few minutes later. "Thanks."

"Any time, ya?" Chappu sat down beside Harry against the wall, passing Harry his water skin, still replete with liquid. Harry drank little and wet his headband again, using it to wipe down his face and neck.

He realized, belatedly, that he wasn't sure if he'd remembered to pick up his cloak from the floor of the Fayth, but an edge of dark cloth was visible just as he started to get up, crumpled on the stairs to the veil, and Harry released a breath. He would never live it down if he showed up at Djose in a few days without his cloak.

"I guess now is as good as any to talk, ya?" Chappu asked, somewhat hesitant. Harry nodded, tested his throat with a cough and found it serviceable. "I thought about it, what you said about not owing you, ya know? And I guess you were right. Even in Besaid, a sphere like that ain't worth your life, y'know? And me being able to heal saved your life a few times in the jungle, so that would make us even or better."

"I'm sensing a but here," Harry eyed his temporary Guardian, wondering. It was true, Chappu had saved his life a few times that afternoon, and likely would again on the way back to the inn for the night. Harry had only been able to summon Valefor once on the way there, and he wasn't sure he would be hale enough on the way out to try summoning Ixion or Ifrit.

"Nah, not really," Chappu shrugged. "Even by Besaid standards I don't owe you anymore. And that's why I'm going to go with you."

Harry blinked at that. He wasn't sure what kind of leap of logic had been made just then and let Chappu know.

"You're a good kid, Harry, but you really need someone to look after you," Chappu laughed and stood before reaching down to pull Harry to his feet. "And I guess it might be pretty cool to be called 'Sir Chappu' one day, eh?"

* * *

Chappu had only been to Luca a few times in his short life, most of them to watch his brother lose at Blitzball to the Goers. The port was always busy, he noticed walking down the gangplank a step behind Harry, but thankfully less so than during the blitz season. The next tournament was in two months, give or take a few days, so there was a blessed quiet by comparison on the docks.

"We should split up to grab supplies," Harry recommended. "If we can get some potions and food for the road, quickly enough, we should reach the travel agency on the Mi'ihen a couple of hours before dark. It's, um, it's owned by an Al Bhed, if that's okay. I hear some people have problems with them, but when I passed through a few days ago they seemed rather nice…" He trailed off, not looking at Chappu, but the young man nodded.

"It should be okay," Chappu smiled, but it felt brittle. He had never met an Al Bhed. He had seen a few at the Blitzball tournaments of course, but he had never met one. And he heard there was something wrong with their pupils, something that turned the inky circles into strange _spirals_. And then there was the fact that they used forbidden machina like it was going out of style-

_But I was prepared to work with them, if I joined the Crusaders,_ Chappu reminded himself. If he could have considered trusting a large group of Al Bhed to honestly stand and fight with the Crusaders, why couldn't he trust them to run an inn properly? It wasn't like they were going around killing Summoners and their guardians or anything. The Al Bhed relied on the Summoners to bring the Calm, just like the rest of Spira, they just didn't have any of their own. They did what they thought was right, even if they were completely wrong. They still _tried_ which was more than Chappu could say of many Yevonites... himself included until mere days ago.

"Here's gil to buy general supplies," Harry offered a small sack. "I paid a small sum to the Al Bhed inn for them to hold onto camp gear, so we shouldn't need any, just a little food and water to tide us over until dinner, which I can pick up. Al Bhed food is a little different, and really spicy, so we might need rations for the following two days, too," he added. "We can resupply at Djose, and the following day we should get to Guadosalam quickly. Hm…"

"Anything else?" Chappu asked. It sounded like there might be.

"You'll be picking up some antidotes and potions, just judge how many spells you think you can cast and buy based on that really," Harry ticked thoughts off on his fingers, mouthing a few silently before shaking his head and giving Chappu a few more to buy. "Well, I think that ought to be plenty of gil, those fiend parts in Kilika sold well. So if you see anything else I haven't thought of, then go ahead. Maybe get yourself new bracers if you think you need them?"

They split, Harry going towards the resident market and Chappu to the travellers' market district. Where one carried mostly food items and household goods that locals would require, the travellers' market was an all out bazaar of goods, anything travelers might need or desire, including gifts for the temples. Harry had only brought two of his temple gifts south with him to Besaid and Kilika, but they were to go to his home temple before going to the next two, and then to Zanarkand.

Chappu eyed a sword at one of the stalls crafted in the style of Sir Jecht's blade, but made of a material that was almost like glass, transparent at any rate but much stronger than any glass he had seen, and filled with water magic, though not an element blade. A sign boasted that, for an extra price, it could take an extra strong water enchantment. It was gorgeous, perfectly built and the decorative aspects were enough for an amateur like him to practically swoon. But two thousand gil was outside the range of his current funds. Maybe he would be able to buy it on his way back to Besaid, or maybe when they arrived in Bevelle he would find something similar? Not that he held much hope of that. The shop owner was telling someone about how the magic used to make it was to emulate the Blitz Sphere, and Luca was _the_ town for Blitz.

Not to mention that, as with most of the great weapon enchanters of Spira, he was an Al Bhed, and there was an outright ban on them entering Bevelle. The chances of encountering blade with spells of that caliber in Bevelle were slim to none.

Chappu tore his eyes away and moved to a stall selling bracers and armlets and the like. He was considered a speed oriented warrior, a lot of the time there wouldn't be time to shove a shield in the way of an attack when he was dashing in. But if his arm was covered in a good hard metal – and, hopefully, strong enough not to get buckled by a hard blow – he could shove his arm into a dingo's mouth and behead it in the same movement. The lizards on Kilika had already proven his current one wouldn't work. Harry had had to melt the thing off his arm before he could heal the brutal wound, though the priests of Kilika proved adept smiths. But dingos and their ilk had much stronger jaws.

Yeah, Harry's advice there had been quite warranted. Chappu selected one that felt pretty durable, and it even had an anti-lightning enchantment on it. He had heard that it was common for fiends near Djose to have lightning attacks like thunder, and crossing the thunder plains only a few days after they would encounter plenty of fiends using thundara, or even thundaga. Of course, he had heard they would encounter every element between the Mi'ihen, and Mushroom Rock, and the way from Djose to the Moonflow. But...

To a warrior, a thunder spell could be indirectly deadly. Chappu winced at the memory of a few years ago when Lulu was first learning thunder. The spell had hit him, and for the rest of the day he would twitch wildly without any control.

Lulu got in some trouble for studying magic on her own, but the temple priests eventually healed Chappu and agreed to teach her _properly, _provided she agreed to become a guardian.

After clapping on the bracer, Chappu counted the gil in his pouch again and made his way to the apothecaries. The Al Bhed inn, or travel agency as he had overheard some locals call it, was apparently well stocked, so they would only need enough potions and such to get there, really. And while Chappu was confident he could perform quite a few cures on the way out, as well as the small handful of spells he had been able to access on the sphere grid after learning cure, he thought ten potions would still be safe.

Would they need all of them? Hopefully not, but that just meant they would have more for later.

"Eh? Hey, Lu, isn't that Chappu?" Chappu perked up both at the sound of his name and the familiar sound of his brother's voice.

He had suspected that he might encounter them on their way back to Besaid, whether the Pilgrimage was a success or not, but already? Chappu turned around and took in the sight of his brother, looking a bit more built then normal and scuffed up from being on the road so long.

And then the crowd parted a little more and he could see his girl. Lulu was the most beautiful woman on Besaid, and now Chappu felt confident in saying all of Kilika and Luca and probably Spira itself. His eyes crawled up from the hem of her long skirt, the myriad belts being deceptively useful armor, he forced himself to skip over her bust - he had learned the hard way that just because Lulu put them on display, that was not an invitation to _stare_ - and crawling past her lips their eyes met.

He felt a grin crawl up his cheeks and he dashed to the only people in the world he could really call family. When his and Lulu's lips separated, Wakka thwacked him on the back of the head.

"Hey, is that any way to greet your own brudda?" Wakka laughed. "Passin' me up for a woman, even a looker like Lulu." They hugged, and then they too parted. "What're you doing in Luca, Chappu? I thought you were going to help Kimahri look after Yuna, ya?"

"I'm rather curious too, Chappu," Lulu's voice didn't hold much emotion, it rarely did, but Chappu heard the veins of amusement and curiosity running through it. A lot of people on Besaid said she was aloof, or arrogant, but Chappu thought people just needed to get to know her better. "In fact, I believe you promised precisely that."

Chappu swooped down to give her another peck, though his smile was less confident than before. "Ah, well, it kind of is hard to explain, and I only _really_ made the decision yesterday, and that's even harder to explain," he brought an arm up to scratch the back of his head. "Looks like I'm following in your footsteps, brudda!"

"Eh? No offense Chappu but you're not much of a blitzer," Wakka looked dubiously down the extra too inches to his younger brother. Chappu couldn't help but laugh.

"No way, I became a guardian," he chuckled, somewhat awkward under the incredulous stares of his girlfriend and brother. "I volunteered to be a temporary two days ago, and now I'm here. I took the pledge in Kilika and everything."

"Seriously? I had kind of figured you might join the Crusaders, ya?" Wakka looked completely stumped. Lulu was disapproving.

"That seems like a rather rash decision, Chappu," she admonished. "You haven't undergone any formal training. We… we made it to Bevelle before Lady Allara gave up; she's joining the temple there now. She said Bahamut deemed her unworthy, and she had doubts ever since Macalania temple. Are you prepared to deal with that with _your_ Summoner?"

"I gotta try," Chappu shrugged. He curved an arm around Lulu's waist, and he smiled at her. "If my girl is gonna go out and save the world, I need to try too. And Summoner Harry is a good kid, y'know? He even performs a sending after every battle with fiends. If there's a new High Summoner in a month, I'd bet it's him."

"Jeez," Wakka plastered a hand over his eyes as Chappu swooped to bestow another kiss on Lulu. "Alright you two, how about we go to a pub, ya? Chappu, when you gotta meet this Summoner of yours?"

"Oh, uh, soon," Chappu stopped. If he hadn't run into Lulu and Wakka he would probably already be on his way to the Great Stair that led to Mi'ihen, and either waiting for or meeting with Harry. He told them as much, sheepishly.

"Alright, alright," Wakka sighed. "Hey Lu, why don't you show Chappu the way? I got something I need to pick up real quick, but we can both see you off and meet your Summoner, ya?"

"Oh alright," Lulu sighed. She removed Chappu's arms from her waist and placed her hand on the crook of his elbow. "Was there anything else you needed to buy, Chappu?"

She led him to the cheapest of the Luca apothecaries where he spent far less gil on potions than anticipated, using the spare on softs at Lulu's suggestion, before leading him away to the stairs. Harry wasn't at the bottom, but Chappu had noticed in Kilika that Harry had a thing for heights so they made their way upwards. As expected, Harry was leaning against the railing at the highest point, overlooking all of Luca.

"Hey, Harry!" Chappu called when they came into earshot, waving the arm that Lulu hadn't claimed as her own. Harry started moving to meet them. "I got the potions."

"And something else, I see," Harry smiled at Lulu and performed the prayer just a breath before she released Chappu's arm to do the same.

"Summoner Harry, is it? I am Lulu, one of Besaid's Guardians," she neither smiled nor frowned, but Harry didn't seem the least bit perturbed.

"Lulu's my girl," Chappu informed Harry proudly. Not that there was much doubt on the matter as he had mentioned her to Harry several times already in the past two days. "I ran into her and my brother in the bazaar. They wanted to see us off before they go catch their ship to Kilika."

"Then where is your brother?" Harry tilted his head, looking dramatically around Chappu is if to see if the man was hiding. "How strange."

"He had to pick something up, but we can wait a few minutes, ya?" While Chappu didn't think Harry would say no, Harry was also the Summoner and therefore in charge of what did and did not happen on their pilgrimage. If Harry said they couldn't wait five minutes for Wakka so that Chappu could have his proper good bye, then they would leave. But Harry wasn't like that and would not say that.

And, indeed, he did not.

Instead, the three sat down on one of the stone benches overlooking Luca. Harry and Lulu engaged in a discussion of black magic, which Chappu listened to but didn't really follow. He was just sharing with Lulu his new found knowledge of white magic, and how surprisingly quick he was catching on to the beginner spells he hadn't learned from the sphere, when Wakka arrived.

And when he did, it was more than slightly obvious what he had needed to "pick up".

"Woah," Chappu eyed the sword slung over his brother's shoulder seriously. "Really? I mean, you didn't…"

"It was there when we were going North, too," Wakka held the blade handle-first towards Chappu. "And it was still there when we came back, and I had the gil for an augment, too. I was going to get it for you if you joined the Crusaders, but I think you deserve it more now, ya?" Wakka grinned. "I called it Brotherhood."

If there was a more beautiful sword in all of Spira, Chappu would eat his boots.

* * *

"You lived in Djose all your life, but you've never been to the Moonflow?" Chappu asked. Harry was still admiring the view from the bank of the river, waiting for their Shoopuf to be ready to load up. It was a little terrible, how beautiful pyreflies were. Whether they were… _fresh_, or from a fiend, they still remained beautiful in a way he couldn't describe. Tiny bits of souls, all the little things that made up who a person was, in those strange ethereal and incorporeal lights.

"I never said I lived there all my life," Harry responded. He watched one of the pyreflies start to flow out of line with the rest, but he made a few motions of the sending and it calmed, continuing to follow the trail of souls that ended in Guadosalam.

"But you said you're from the Temple, ya? Everyone there was from Djose before it got destroyed, weren't they?" Chappu asked.

"A couple are from Luca I think, but…" Harry hesitated. "It's hard to explain. I mean, it was all explained to me when I arrived. Tal and I figured it out together, really. And the faiths have been giving me hints, too. I told you how I'm a Chosen? That I'm not just _a_ Summoner, but Ixion's?"

"Well yeah, but that's not that weird," Chappu hesitated. "Even though the temple in Besaid is young, Valefor still chooses a Chosen sometimes. A disciple she likes, ya? And Yuna said High Summoner Braska was Bahamut's chosen, but he kept it a secret so he wouldn't get any special treatment."

"I'm different from other Chosen though," Harry sighed. It was so hard to think of how to explain. How could he tell Chappu that, not only was he not really a Yevonite (a Summoner who wasn't of Yevon but who the aeons acknowledged anyway – the mere thought was blasphemy!) but not of Spira? How could he explain that he grew up using machines to clean, learn, entertain, travel… how could he explain Britain to someone who didn't know anything but Spira? It had been hard enough for Tal to explain Spira to Harry, and Harry had been _in Spira_ at the time!

Chappu didn't let him hold his silence long. "Harry, I'm going with you all the way to Zanarkand, and a Guardian and Summoner gotta be good friends, ya? What's wrong?"

"Chappu, when I was ten, almost eleven, I woke up in Ixion's Chamber of the Fayth," Harry sighed. "Nobody brought me down there, I just appeared one afternoon. No newcomers had arrived the Temple in a good week, but there I was, lying on top of the fayth with a concussion. Sometimes I say strange phrases or words that no one but me knows the meaning of; don't say you haven't noticed that, because I know I've done it lately. I'm not… I'm not from Spira, Chappu."

Chappu was silent for a few seconds before laughing. "That was a good one, Harry," he said, stretching. "I know you're a little strange, but not that much. Come on, they're loading the shoopuf. Tell me the real story on the other side, ya?"

Harry wanted to wince. He wanted to tell Chappu he was being serious. Instead, he got on the shoopuf, and enjoyed the view from on top it during the half hour crossing.

And, as Chappu requested, on the far side of the bank he started telling the truth.

"My parents died when I was a baby," he informed Chappu. "According to my aunt, my father was a drunken brute and my mother… had loose morals. My mother's sister and her husband raised me alongside their son. They weren't Yevonites. They followed a religion that I never really understood, and according to what they told me, the sins of the father fall on the child. I was a bastard child, which made it even worse. I was born with sin in my very soul, and I had to do everything I could to be good and clean it up.

"A few days before my eleventh birthday I woke up in Djose temple, as I told you. No one knew where I had come from. I remember going to retrieve letters for my uncle, and when he went through them he was furious. He was going to beat me, and suddenly I was in the Fayth. Ifrit said that I was brought there 'by a dream'. I… the fayth talk about dreams a lot. And Sin."

"Should you be telling me that?" Chappu sent Harry a sidelong glance, but Harry only shrugged.

"I asked Tal about it last night, after you went to sleep," Harry admitted. It had been hardly a week, but it had been nice to be back in Djose Temple one last time, if only for one night. "He said that although only Summoners are allowed in the Chamber of the Fayth, it is at the Summoners' discretion who they share the fayth's words with. There is nothing in the teachings that says I can't entrust my guardian with this knowledge."

"Oh," Chappu took his bubbling blue sword from his back and swung it lazily as he had taken to doing since receiving the hooked blade. "So, uh, if the _fayth_ said that you were brought there by a dream… what does that mean? Are you really _not_ from Spira?"

"I'm from Surrey, in the United Kingdom, which is in Europe, which is a continent of Earth," Harry bit his lip. "So, ah, no. I'm not Spiran. But I like it better here. And here… here I'm a summoner. I can try to help people. It's a lot better than being just some kid not even his own parents wanted."

Chappu remained silent the rest of the trip to Guadosalam. When they visited the farplane before bed, Chappu only spent a few minutes watching the still illusions of his parents. When Harry attempted to summon the image of _his_ parents, all the figures on the farplane faded, Chappu's included, as the pyrflies flew frantically around as if disturbed. Chappu rushed Harry to the inn. Harry tried to tell him to go back, that he would wait, but Chappu stubbornly stayed at the inn with him. Said it wouldn't be right.

And Harry thought, then, that his flesh and blood guardian was more important to him now than the parents he had never met.

**Author's Note: Importantish stuff is below. But for here - I'm asking for fic recommendations. Nothing where romance is the main plot (that got boring when I was like 15 guys), no Mpreg (slash is fine, but I don't like mpreg. Or fempreg for that matter. Or marriage. Just no starting-a-family-things in general please). I'm into enough fandoms that listing them isn't worth my time, so i'll just say no GoT, OFF, anime that came out after 2010, first-person shooter games, or Elder Scrolls (unless it's VERY well done). Crossovers (especially with HP) and time travel are encouraged. Detailed world building (such as Tis Femina or Embers) are HIGHLY encouraged.**

**_Regarding travel time_ – In the game it takes longer to get places in general because the game has a lot more shit happening at the time what with Sin stalking them and Seymour being Seymour and all that other lovely stuff. There's a lot of political intrigue that happens at the time that messes stuff up, and this is all a little more than a year before that. And while it's not precisely smooth sailing, the only thing really barring the way for summoners right now is fiends and the possibility of a Sin attack.**

**1) Besaid to Kilika is interrupted by Sin. So not only does the ship not leave until afternoon (as it seems to take a while to send off with the entire village going to see Yuna off), it also takes a couple extra hours to arrive because it sustained damage from Sin. **

**2) Kilika to Luca starts very late in the day, after the gang has gone to the Temple and back. It is dark not long after they leave, and the ship goes slower in the dark, partly to keep an eye out in case Sin decides to attack this one too. They arrive early enough in the day in Luca that the tournament starts less than an hour after they arrive, and presumably takes MOST of the rest of the day, but leaves a couple hours at the end for the group to get to Rin's travel agency afterwards. Rin's is very close to Luca, and one day from Djose by chocobo (2 without).**

**3) No Crusader mission interrupting the trip to Djose (the first iteration of Operation Mi'ihen still being weeks away) or Al Bhed to Guadosalam (in the game it is noted as a RECENT thing, something Wakka & Lulu don't know about from previous pilgrimages, (their last pilgrimage before Yuna being Father Zuke, 6 months before FFX takes place) meaning the Al Bhed won't start for a while).**

**In fact, in general, just none of that bullshit. Pilgrimages don't actually take very long if Sin or other elements don't get in the way. The longest part is getting from Bevelle to Zanarkand (10 days if no chocobo, 8 days with (the Calm Lands are huge & take 4 days to walk across)) and back and then hunting down Sin to kill it. The reason more pilgrimages aren't completed is summoners losing confidence, dithering (as with Lady Allara, Wakka's first summoner (and Lulu's 3rd or so)), the small percentage of the population capable of summoning, and summoners not being strong enough to obtain a summon (these summoners can return to their pilgrimage, just like most others, but it's unlikely).**


	4. I: The Pilgrim: Losing Fayth

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes.

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part I: The Pilgrim**

Chapter 4: Losing Fayth

The trip from Guadosalam to Macalania Temple went deceptively smooth. Harry was not ignorant to the advantages of his Patron Aeon being that of thunder, and though at the end of each of the two days in the trek through the Thunder Plains he was exhausted, neither he nor Chappu were struck by errant bolts.

Ixion had two great parts in this. The first being that, with his horn erect, he acted as a mobile lightning rod to keep his Summoner and guardian safe. Second was that, because of his ability to absorb the power of any lightning strikes or spells, he was mostly self-sustaining, meaning Harry could keep him summoned for the whole day rather than a scant few hours, though the effort still left him drained by each day's end.

With all the fiends of the thunder plains being thunder using, Ixion never took damage while Chappu constantly cast and recast nulshock on himself and Harry. By simply spearing each fiend with his horn, Ixion never fell to the disadvantage of fighting his own element. Even in the case of the true elemental fiends, all it took from Harry was a simple watera, though it was rarely necessary. He had heard tell at the Al Bhed travel agency that there were water elementals in Macalania Wood, and that they dropped "fish scales" that he could use to teach Ixion water spells, and so resolved to do so when the time came.

"I do not take kindly to water," Ixion informed Harry when he relayed the plan. "Truly a sad thought for a sailor." The words were more impressions in Harry's mind, given the unicorn had the vocal cords of a horse (a curious concept, given Harry had never heard of horses being in Spira), but he would later discover than even humanoid aeons could not make their fayth's words audible.

For now, Harry only agreed to obey Ixion's will, should he decide to refrain when the time came, and Chappu walked silently beside, still uncertain of how to treat his charge after the revelations on the Moonflow.

Of course, the frozen wood of Macalania did not have the same intrinsic advantage for them as the ice element Aeon, Shiva, was on the far end of their journey. But the rainbow path from the camp ground to the Lake was both available and short, taking only two hours to traverse from one end of the forest to the other. And they would have her aid on the path through again to reach Bevelle, moreover.

It was at midday on their third day of travel from Guadosalam that Harry and Chappu arrived at Macalania Temple.

As always, the first duty of the Summoner was to find and greet the Head Temple Summoner. Though, Harry had to admit, he was surprised when he found the man. He wasn't terribly old at all, the youngest he had met at any of the temples, only in his twenties by the look of him. No, not at all like the Summoners in other temples, Harry realized. The man's hair, concave ribs, and his long hands… he was surely guado. Or part.

"Temple Summoner, it is an honor to meet you," Harry said, performing the prayer. He had heard that there was a human-guado crossbreed. The son of the current guado leader, Maester Jyscal Guado, who had brought the light of Yevon to the guado... Yes, Harry had heard, and knew the man instantly.

"Well met, Summoner," the hybrid bowed in return. His voice was higher than Harry had anticipated, but smooth. He didn't like the sound at all. "I am Seymour Guado, Leader of this Macalania Temple in absence of Lord Maester Jyscal."

"I am Harry Potter, of Djose Temple," Harry introduced himself, and swept an arm back to indicate his guardian. "Chappu is a white mage and swordsman of Besaid. He is my guardian. We ask entry to the Cloister of Trials."

"And so you may have it," Seymour chuckled then, the sound surprisingly deep when compared to his voice. The difference was jarring, and Harry was on edge. He shouldn't be. This was a Temple Summoner, after all. He was among those ranked highest under Yevon's eyes. But it was hard, so hard, to say that in his heart when "Yevon" was just a word to him rather than the way of life of all Spirans, and everything in him told him not to trust the Temple Summoner before him. "How old are you, Summoner Harry?"

"Thirteen, though I will be fourteen by the time I reach Zanarkand, Yevon permitting." Harry had felt almost wrong replying.

Something was off. But he had no idea what.

"I was the same age, on my Pilgrimage," Seymour's smile reached his eyes then, but the life flickered out and died. "I wish you better luck than I had, Summoner Harry. You are welcome to stay the night after your communion with Shiva, should you so desire, though it is only half a day's travel to Bevelle. The decision is yours."

Harry performed the prayer again, Chappu behind him repeating the gesture, and they made for the stairs.

"Something about him is wrong," Harry murmured when the door to the Cloister shut behind him. He didn't know what, or why, but he knew. Some fledgling instinct. Like how he knew just which of Aunt Petunia's friends would be something resembling kind while babysitting him, or how he knew just the moment when one of the Djose monkeys wanted to bite him rather than be pet. "He makes my skin crawl."

"You shouldn't say that," Chappu winced. "He's a Temple Summoner, ya? Plus he's the son of a Maester. It's practically sacrilege to say something like that."

"So Yevon would say," Harry sighed. He saw Chappu wince again. On the way through the Thunderplains Harry had intimated that he was not actually a Yevonite, despite his status as Summoner. He liked many of the teachings, to be sure. They united Spirans in a way that religion didn't seem to manage on earth. But they were also _fragile_. He had heard of how easy it was for a Yevonite to lose faith, how common it was for Yevon to drift in and out of favor with the populace.

Chappu hadn't taken the news well, but his temper cooled by the time they reached Macalania Wood the night before. He said it made Harry sort of holy, still, and made his impending sacrifice just as meaningful, even if he had only the same confidence in Yevon as the Al Bhed.

Harry didn't really feel guilty for telling Chappu his concern regarding Seymour Guado, but Chappu's lack of tolerance for Harry's lack of faith was disconcerting all the same. Guardians were meant to be close to their summoners. Even those who were strangers at the start grew close. To hit such a bump midway through that made even casual conversation hard to stand… Harry was worried that it might jeopardize the pilgrimage. He should never have mentioned his lack of faith in the teachings, but it was too late now.

They remained more or less silent through the Trial. It was a difficult one, at first seeming nonexistent until Harry found the door to the antechamber would not open until the cloister was solved. What with all the ice it took nearly an hour, but Chappu's nul-frost spell had the bonus of keeping a warm aura around them both. The only talk was of the trial, coordinating their efforts to finish as quickly as possible.

When they entered the antechamber, Chappu let out a long whistle. The antechamber was _big_. Easily large enough to fit the entire populations of Besaid and Kilika combined with room to spare, the circular room had a ceiling at least 3 stories high. It was amazing what Old Spiran architecture could manage.

Chappu was a little frosty in his bid for Harry's luck with Shiva, but the boy endured. Past the veil and along the path under the lake that led to the Chamber of the Fayth, the blue glow of Shiva's crystal illuminated the room from below. The fayth was waiting for him, a nun Harry thought, though what little of her hair was showing looked so short, that he entertained the idea that it was a monk in nun's garb. Then again, Harry had never even heard of the concept of crossdressing in Spira, so he sincerely doubted it.

When Shiva spoke, before Harry could greet her or perform the prayer, he knew that the figure shrouded in heavy fabric was a woman.

"Welcome, Chosen One," Shiva performed the prayer to him. An odd thing. "You will have my power, but I wish for us to converse, first."

"Of course, Lady Shiva," Harry bowed low. As if he would deny the fayth! He may not be a Yevonite, but he believed wholly in the power of the fayth. Through the fayth he would gain the power to save Spira.

"My fellows are vague, and I am sorry," she said, standing stock still. A spirit was not compelled to move unnecessarily. "Sin harms us, makes us dull. We dream, and Sin is part of the dream. And Sin is a dreamer, just as we. With Sin we dream of a day when Yevon will fall. Do you understand?"

_When Yevon will fall_? Harry thought and his eyes widened. "The fayth are no more Yevonites than I am, are you?" Harry sucked in cold air between his teeth, shocked. He had been on his pilgrimage two weeks now, and while the time was short, this revelation was a leap beyond what he thought possible.

"We were," Shiva nodded, accepting his deduction. "Or, I was. Ixion was not. Bahamut was a child when Sin was born, and so was never a Yevonite. Ifrit had doubts. Lady Valefor was _punished_. Then there was the sisters… Lady Anima… and Yojimbo…"

Harry perked up at the last few. He had heard of Anima, once. An Aeon that appeared only in myth, but apparently recent myth. An Aeon that was both young and powerful and _terrible_, but no one knew what it was. Only that its name had been added to the list of Aeons some years ago and no more was said, no temple established along the path to Zanarkand for it.

And Harry had never heard of Yojimbo at all, nor of any "sisters". Or did she mean that Anima and Yojimbo were sisters? Though Yojimbo was a rather… _masculine_ name, Spira had stranger things. Aeons, for one.

Either way, he was fascinated.

"Together, we guide the dream," Shiva continued. "We forget our hurts, and we dream. There are many dreamers, all in and of Zanarkand. They sleep and we guide their dream. And we pray to wake, for our dream to end."

"I don't understand," Harry sighed. "You all talk of dreams, but none of it makes any sense. Can you explain? Please? What does Sin have to do with all this dreaming? Why do you want to stop?"

"Sin is our nightmare, but we may yet dream something brighter," Shiva smiled at him then. "We try and we hope and we dream. One day, our dream will overtake Sin. I do not believe you will surpass our dreams. But you can always buy us more time."

Harry wanted to ask what Shiva meant by that. What she meant by buying time. That was all the Final Aeon did anyway, bought time for Spira to collect itself.

Harry _wanted_ to ask, but the nun's form shrouded entirely in cloth flew forward.

He heard the whispered words _good luck, Summoner_ when they collided. Harry's breath came in gasps, and he realized how much of his strength speaking to Shiva had sapped. He was cold, and there was still the ice bridge back to the antechamber to brave, but he would survive. The lingering effects of Chappu's nul-frost had taken the brunt of it.

He had received such a startling message from the Fayth. They were not of Yevon. And… he shuddered to think of it, but what if what Shiva had been saying was that _they_ created Sin. Did that mean that, to destroy Sin forever, they would have to break all the summoning crystals?

And then there were "many" dreamers in Zanarkand. Did that mean that in Zanarkand there were many fayth? Or was the Final Aeon powered by the sacrifice of many rather than one like a regular fayth? What did that make of the tale of Lady Yunalesca and Lord Zaon?

But there was so little he knew. Harry stood from his kneeling position and began his trek back across the ice bridge. This was important. This had to be important. If only he knew _why_.

* * *

Bevelle had been quite a sight to see when Harry and Chappu arrived at Twilight the night before. Chappu hadn't approved of Harry's intent to head straight out. He thought that they should rest at the temple for the rest of the day and stay the night and head to Bevelle in the morning, or after a nice lunch in Macalania. But Harry was adamant and, as Summoner, what he said was what they did.

Harry didn't feel safe thinking his oh-so-sacriligeous thoughts while in a temple, especially one led by a man who set Harry's teeth on edge. Strangely, thinking them in the military city, the very seat of Yevon's power, made him feel much more secure than around Seymour Guado.

And so they left. They didn't stop walking until they arrived at the lodgings reserved for Summoners on pilgrimage near Bevelle temple, and it was only there that Harry told Chappu what Shiva had said to him.

Chappu didn't like it. At all. He tried to convince Harry otherwise, but he couldn't refute the words of the fayth, only hope that Harry was lying about what they had said.

It hurt, for Harry's guardian, the same one he had encountered and was certain as he saw him that Chappu was truly _meant_ to be his guardian… it hurt for that fledgling bond to be under such strain so soon. And there was little Harry could do to stop it.

But Chappu accepted, at length, what Harry relayed of the fayth, and the next morning they went through the Trials, wondering what Bahamut would bring to the table, or if he would deign expand their knowledge at all. From what Shiva had said, Harry could figure that Bahamut had become a fayth not long before Sin appeared, or else had been a human child at the time of Sin's appearance. Meanwhile, the other fayth that Harry was familiar with had all been created after Sin. Certainly Shiva, as a nun of Yevon, and Ifrit as a Crusader given the organization was only a few hundred years old. Ixion himself had intimated his fayth was not especially old.

What then of this Yojimbo? And if Anima was only recently added to the list, did that make Anima an Aeon hardly more than 10 years old, or had the fayth only recently been rediscovered?

_But_, Harry wondered, _do I really need to know?_

He wanted to know. He wanted to know everything he could about Spira the more he saw of it. It was a shame that he only had perhaps another month or two to experience the delights of Spira, but… it was better him than someone's child. It was better that Harry be sacrificed, Harry who had no bonds outside of those few in Djose Temple and the tenuous bond he held with his guardian, rather than someone who had a family who loved them and would weep as much in mourning as the rest of Spira in joy for Sin's departure.

So while Harry was determined to take down Sin or die trying, he was intent on learning things about Spira that the monks in Djose hadn't managed to teach him. And it seemed as though what the fayth had been telling him was only the tip of the iceberg.

He wanted to know. But what it all boiled down to… unless all the failed pilgrims were very good at keeping secrets, he alone was being given the message. So unless the maesters knew – and he rather thought asking was a bad idea in case they did not – Harry had no one but the fayth to turn to. And even Shiva, for all she promised to be straightforward, had been painfully vague.

They left him to find his own conclusions, to speculate, and perhaps come to entirely the wrong conclusion.

So, as Chappu and Harry passed through the Cloister of Trials, they had made a list of questions to ask. Harry did not mention the blatant use of machina in the temple, and Chappu ignored it, but Harry knew there was an itch in Chappu. The same itch that Harry had.

"Bahamut is still a fayth, ya? All you can do is pray he answers," Chappu pointed out while they rode the moving platform. It reminded Harry of a sort of sideways elevator, though sometimes it did go up and down, too. This was the final moving platform, he was certain.

"No, I think the Fayth _want_ me to know," Harry posited. "They've been telling me things. It's not like I went up to Valefor and started chatting with her about dreams. They've been feeding me information ever since I went to Ixion's Chamber. I think if I ask the right questions, Bahamut will give me the right information."

"It just seems… I dunno, arrogant," Chappu sighed. They walked on stone now, feet clapping hard on the path. "Not even Lu has crazy ideas like this, and that girl is crazy smart. Doesn't it seem arrogant?"

"That I assume some more-or-less all powerful spirits are going to tell me everything I want to know just because I ask?" Harry supplied as they reached the antechamber. "I guess. Or it would, under different circumstances. But if they don't, then they're just yanking my chain. Would you rather Aeons were mysterious and jerks or mysterious and helpful?"

Chappu only grunted in reply, and Harry sighed. It was hard on him, Harry knew. Hard to reconcile himself as a Yevonite who was guardian to a heretic Summoner. Hard to reconcile his beliefs with what Harry was telling him the fayth said. And he had to take Harry's word at face value, because he could not enter the Chamber of the Fayth to hear what was going on in person.

"Come what may, we will find our answers in Zanarkand," Harry sighed. "I trust you Chappu. We _will_ get to Zanarkand. And in a few weeks' time you will be heading back to your girl to celebrate the Calm."

"Promise?" Chappu asked after a moment's quiet deliberation. Harry only smiled in response and made his way to the Chamber of the Fayth.

Bahamut's crystal glowed a sunny yellow as Harry approached and at length the spectre of a child appeared, perhaps a couple of years younger than Harry. He wore a hooded purple vest that shrouded his face, but there was no hiding his youth.

Was this what Shiva meant when she said Bahamut had been a child at Sin's birth?

"Lord Bahamut," Harry bowed, not bothering with the prayer but instead bowing in respect. Ceremony, it seemed, was a construct of man.

"You have questions," the boy's voice was just as young sounding as his body appeared. Was this really the strongest Aeon short of the Final Aeon? "We cannot speak long. Your body cannot hold me here for much time."

"From what Lady Shiva told me, it sounded like the Fayth made Sin," Harry began. "But it also sounded like maybe with the exception of you, the Fayth were all made _after_ Sin."

"We were, but there were others," Bahamut's small chest rose and fell as he spoke, voice slow and clear. "In Zanarkand there were 3 fayth before the war, of which only one now exists, and more made as time went by and new weapons were needed to fend against ever greater machina. Zanarkand was almost defeated, but all of Zanarkand's Summoners sacrificed themselves together to make an ultimate Aeon, something to fell Bevelle."

"Bevelle?" Harry gasped. Zanarkand… at war with Bevelle? When Bahamut said machina Harry had thought of the Al Bhed, but… _Bevelle_? The very seat of Yevon power had been using machina against Summoners in a war?

"When this Aeon was created, it became an armored shell for its Summoner, and laid waste to Spira," Bahamut continued despite Harry's interjection. "That is the origin of Sin, and of Yevon."

"Then… Sin is a Summoner?" Harry's head was already reeling from the drain of his energy from sustaining Bahamut's incorporeal form, let alone the information he was being given.

"Sin is much, but first and foremost he is a dream," Bahamut corrected Harry, holding up a hand to stem any protest. "You will not defeat Sin. But you are needed. Seek the lost Fayth in the Calm Lands. You will know. And you will help to wake us."

And then his body moved to join Harry, just as every Aeon before him.

It was like being splashed in the face with cold water, but also like having his head held under as the Water Dragon Bahamut flooded him. For a moment Harry thought that, if the fayth wanted to "wake up" then they should just do this to _themselves_ and see what happened.

But the splashing effect was almost revitalizing, and Harry barely stumbled when he returned to his guardian.

* * *

They stayed in Bevelle for three days, talking, gaining the wisdom of others who had made it as far as Mt Gagazet, and preparing for the greater part of their journey.

The worst, after all, was yet to come.

"Are you sure you don't want to buy a better staff?" Chappu asked. They were standing in Bevelle's merchant district. Chappu was not taking his own advice of course, too proud of the blade hanging at his hip that his brother had gifted him. But Chappu _had_ bought another couple of augmentations for his sword to make any fiends they encountered go down a little smoother.

The Calm Lands, according to local word, was absolutely rife with fiends. Despite the sheer vastness of the Calm Lands, they had to be prepared for many unavoidable encounters.

"I'm sure," Harry smiled at his guardian, hand moving to his back to touch lightly on the cold black shaft of his staff. Part of his attachment to it was sentimental, of course. The staff had been a gift from Djose temple as the only Summoner to originate there for the pilgrimage in years, and as such he held it in great esteem. Their usual resources for such expenditures were pooled and bought Harry a better staff than the norm – slender, and easily as long as he was tall.

The fact that his staff increased his magical output greatly and, if it came to physical blows, carried an enchantment that made the petrification of any foe it struck rather likely… Harry found the weapon well suited to his needs. It hadn't failed him yet in the short weeks since beginning his journey.

"Do you at least want to fill the last enchantment in it?" Chappu lifted one arm to rub the back of his neck, exasperated. He had filled out the slots on his weapon earlier in their shopping, picking up a water enchantment, another strength increasing, and finally the Sensor augment, to give them an edge as they fought their way to Zanarkand.

"What would I fill it with?" Harry had already seen the enchantments he could buy, and neither he nor Chappu were had the skill to augment their weaponry on their own. The _true_ masters of the skill were all Al Bhed, one of the few cases where Yevonites would trade with them was for well enchanted weapons, but the Al Bhed never taught more than the basics to outsiders. And it seemed the basics was all the enchanters of Bevelle knew. The best available were only third tier enchantments, hardly worth the gil.

There were no Al Bhed in Bevelle to augment anything for Harry, and what his staff already had in terms of magic increasing enchantments surpassed what was available in the shops here. What could they offer him that would actually be of use?

Not a whole lot, so far as he could see.

"I'm not always going to be able to get between you and a physical attack," was Chappu's eventual response. "Maybe something to increase the strength of your blows? So if they don't get petrified, you can bash them far back enough to give us a better chance, ya? You're a little stringy brudda."

It was a fair point. The further they travelled, the more often Harry had to resort to physical blows. More monsters were fast as they headed North, and while Harry was fast enough to dodge, he wasn't fast enough to cast a spell and evade rapid attacks entirely and simultaneously.

He had tried, and been put to sleep for the effort.

Harry removed the staff from his back, fingers running lightly down the cold black wood as he thought. Such enchantments mostly just made the weapon itself sturdier, hardened the wood, that sort of thing. Given the staff was two inches thick at the shaft, with each end tapering in a swirl that was useless for stabbing, a bit of extra strength wouldn't hurt it, certainly.

"You're right, of course," Harry sighed. What he had wanted was to commission Al Bhed to enchant it for him. But what were the chances of encountering one of the masters of augmentation during the last leg of their journey? While there were occasional Al Bhed sighting in the Calm Lands, he had heard nothing of any travel agencies further north than Macalania, so he thought it unlikely.

No, Harry should have looked into it in Luca. Would have, had he had the funds for a very good spell like Half MP.

As Harry handed his staff over the amateur in the shop, he felt a small hope die in him. He had so wanted to turn that staff into the best he could, into a weapon worthy of a High Summoner, in the hopes that he too would be forged by it into one worthy to wield it.

If he did now, he would need a new staff, but he wouldn't give up the one he had for the world.

**Author's Note: Next chapter heralds the end of The Pilgrim.**

**Yes I am aware that Seymour did not have a conventional pilgrimage, given the goal was to make his mother a fayth rather than truly become High Summoner (though it's hinted in the game she wanted to be the final aeon for him in their Zanarkand dialog, she plainly states otherwise when you meet her fayth). However I think that they would have tried to hide it at the time (especially since they can't let people know that Yunalesca is in Zanarkand), and Seymour continues that ruse for the sake of his plans (aka "become Sin when he finds a Summoner he thinks can become High Summoner & he can get sufficiently close to" – he doesn't even consider Harry a possibility).**

**In regards to how Harry interacts with the fayth: Every summoner's communion with the fayth varies. While Yuna's is mostly through prayer, other summoners may have different ways of speaking to the fayth. For Harry it was built on the precedent set by Ixion when they met, and the other fayth are curious about Ixion's choice of Chosen, so they don't much bother with propriety. They don't demand the Yevonite prayers because of obvious reasons, and they don't get to talk much with anyone other than fayth anyway. I figure this is a thing they often do when one particular summon takes a shine to a summoner, the rest just accept them as worthy and have a short conversation, though rarely quite so earth shaking. A few of them are rather disappointed in Harry as is, but he's only 13, so whatcha gonna do?**


	5. I: The Pilgrim: Sent and Unsent

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes.

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part I: The Pilgrim**

Chapter 5: Sent and Unsent

There was a reason why most of the battles against Sin throughout the ages took place in the Calm Lands. Well, there were several, among them the non-existant population (excluding a travel agency that Harry was rather put out to discover was indeed there, a little-visited Crusader training arena, and the occasional Chocobo trainer) and the fact that Sin strolled through frequently, strangely leaving any humes in the area unharmed. The frequent passing made it an ideal place for confrontation.

The main reason was simply that the Calm Lands were _huge, _certainly large enough to hold a battle between Sin and the Final Aeon. Although Sin could stroll through in perhaps ten minutes if he had legs at the time, or fly across in five were he favoring wings that day, it took five days to cross on foot for a human. Only two or two and a half on chocobo, but it seemed there was no chocobo trainer in the vicinity, and the wild ones were a touch skittish.

Harry and Chappu reached the trading post at noon on the second day. They waited there, enjoying the fare that the woman there made for them. Chappu was friendly to the Al Bhed woman, as far as Yevonites go, and Harry was relieved to find that she was not, in fact, a master augmentor. He hadn't taken too much of a gamble in the new enchantment then, and it had been helpful in batting away Nebiros and Skolls.

For two hours they stayed at the agency, hiding from the midday sun, and at the time of their departure the woman offered to lend them two chocobos from her stable out back. Considering they had not seen any such stable – the agency was built into the side of a low hill and they could see no chocobos over the crest of that hill – both were confused until she did in fact return with two chocobos through a passage that apparently went under the hill through the shop front.

"I don't normally offer to Summoners," she supplied as the birds stretched their wings, "since I've only got three, and if I keep one for emergencies that only leaves two to lend. Most Summoners have at least two guardians, and we Al Bhed are… opposed to the Final Summoning. But even so, I will not stop _oui_, and I wish _oui_ luck, Summoner. Spira could do for another Calm."

Harry and Chappu bowed to the woman, and though she denied any attempt to pay her for the mounts, she did accept when they purchased more food since they no longer had to carry it themselves.

In two days time they found a path that went down into the rift between the Calm Lands at Mt Gagazet. The Mountain was almost touching their feet, the cold air refreshing after days of riding in the sun, but Harry remembered what Bahamut said. There was a Fayth in the Calm Lands. And Bahamut had said Harry would know, too.

Well Harry knew when they saw that path under the bridge that _that_ was the way they should go.

"It won't take long," Harry assured Chappu when his guardian gave him an odd look. They had to leave the chocobos at the pass. "I'm sure of it. It's here." He couldn't feel it, but he wished he could. Like that would make his claim more valid. Instead he just knew that this was where Bahamut wanted him to go. This was where he could find a "lost" Aeon.

They followed the path down where it forked on the cliff face. The right was the broader path, which led to a cave. And Harry knew this was it. There was a fayth here, somewhere. They only had to find it.

Perhaps Anima, the practically mythological Aeon, resided down here.

The cave, or more appropriately cavern, was scooped from the mountainside and sloped harshly downward, steeper than the path from the Calm Lands. And yet only a few meters around, Harry could see two crusaders milling about. He approached.

"Excuse me, what is this place?" Harry inquired of the nearer one.

"This is the valley where Lady Yocun trained," he waved an arm to indicate the small stretch of land that followed the split of the Calm Lands. "We crusaders like to train here, in honor of her memory."

"Lady Yocun, the crusader High Summoner?" Harry was a little surprised by that. He had heard of her, of course, and he knew that there was legend regarding several summoners of where they had trained. The steps to Kilika temple were practically holy in and of themselves for the past 50 years since High Summoner Ohalland had brought his Calm.

"Yes," only the crusader's smile was visible under his helmet. "She is our pride to this day. Not many summoners come down here to honor her, with Mt Gagazet right above us, but it's always a pleasure. We still keep her blade in a small shrine down that way for any who wish to honor her." He indicated the path along the crevasse.

"I will make sure to visit before I leave for Gagazet," Harry agreed. "What of the cave? Was this also hers?"

"That cave… more summoners go to the cave on pilgrimage that they do to honor Lady Yocun," the crusader hummed. He crossed his arms over his chest, metal plates grinding. "It is a matter of legend that a fayth was stolen centuries past and hidden away in that cave. I've only seen a few summoners enter it, rare times that I have the luck to be stationed here. And the only time I saw someone leave was 9 years ago."

"Nine years ago? Do you mean Lord Braska?" _now _Harry's interest was well and truly piqued. He was _right_. There was an aeon somewhere in that dark cavern, he had only to find it.

The crusader nodded. "I asked Sir Jecht personally about the aeon," he intimated, "but all he said was that 'the price was too high' and he laughed. Sir Auron and Lord Braska said much the same to the others."

A price to high for a high summoner? Harry had to wonder. But, then, word had it that Sir Jecht had been a rather sarcastic man. Perhaps the aeon was simply to draining for Lord Braska to use. Harry would never dream himself to be a stronger summoner than Lord Braska, but there were many ways to interpret such a statement.

And Bahamut had _told_ him to find the hidden fayth, the fayth he was now certain lay in the cavern.

Harry used his hands on the ground behind him to help keep steady, while Chappu slid down on his feet, a cloud of dust and small rocks rising in his wake. A smile twitched to life on Harry face, though it vanished when he lost sight of Chappu entirely. He hadn't expected the tunnel to be so dark or long.

Still, after a ten minute climb Harry finally managed to emerge into the bottom of the cavern where Chappu waited. A handful of pyreflies milled about, proof that Chappu had not been idle after his landing. The Cavern was positively crawling with fiends, though many were too busy fighting each other to pay any mind to Harry and Chappu. Or perhaps they had recognized that attacking Chappu would only end in death.

Harry could only speculate of course. The nature of fiends had been long debated. While it was true that they were made of pyreflies and lacked any physical body beyond that which the pyreflies held together for them, it was their intelligence that was completely unknown. Some seemed to display tactical ability, while others seemed to have less intelligence than the meanest of animals. Not that there were many normal animals like Harry had gotten accustomed to on Earth here in Spira, given that they were easily hunted down by fiends, mainly herd animals like cows managing to hang on. Still, the monkeys of Djose and the butterflies of Macalania were proof that normal animals could thrive even in the face of rabid fiends that may or may not display human levels of intelligence.

It was so interesting to think about, even if, in the end, all fiends were bloodthirsty abominations.

"Ready to go?" Chappu asked, his eyes scanning the feuding fiends. Harry nodded, staff in hand to react at a moment's notice, while Chappu held his blade loosely at his side.

By the time they reached the first corridor they had fought off at least fifteen fiends, though Harry wasn't sure he was counting Chappu's kills accurately. The corridor was clearer, giving Harry time to perform a small sending to help the pyreflies in the cavern find their way out, even if it was an abbreviated form.

In the next chamber, considerably less populated than the first, they narrowly avoided an encounter with what looked to be a tonberry. Harry had thought they were a myth, a rather grizzly one at that, which was used to scare children, though Chappu revealed that his girlfriend had apparently encountered them on her recent pilgrimage. Harry shuddered though, wondering which parts of the rumors were true.

The appearance more or less matched the book Tal had shown him, although it carried a chef's knife rather than the illustration's cleaver. Its eyes glowed bright in the dim cavern and sent shivers down Harry's spine. They would be _extra_ careful traversing these caves. If there truly was a Fayth down here, it was no _wonder_ the damned thing was considered "lost".

The elementals living here had an element outside those Harry knew, though he suspected that a talented white mage could take them out using a Holy spell. Chappu, however, had yet to work out the highest levels of healing spells, let alone something as complex as turning the pure power of white magic into something _harmful_. Perhaps with the aid of a more experienced mage, but for now… no.

And yet, despite how the cavern system fairly teemed with fiends the likes of which Harry thought he might see in his nightmares for the rest of his short life, he was strangely enchanted by it. It wasn't all bad. The pyreflies were pretty, even in this dim light, and they made a steady stream to the mouth of the cave as Harry continued to perform the minor movements of the sending. Many wouldn't bother, but Harry always had the bug in the back of his head that every bit helps. Every fiend's worth of pyreflies was one less fiend that some civilian might be attacked by, and he long since appreciated times on the road without fiends.

How would a Spiran react to Earth, where humanity's greatest threat was simply other people? No monsters, no giant birds or lizards, no serpents with the power of petrification…

After three years in Spira, it already seemed a dream.

The slim passage widened abruptly into a cavernous room with a single teleportation pad in the center.

And by that pad, a woman in the traditional garb of a summoner from Kilika, hair bound in two buns at the sides of her head and covered, and a long dress.

When Harry saw the pyreflies swerving in and out of her body, he sucked in a breath. _Unsent_. He had never seen one before, though he knew them to be depressingly common throughout Spira. Like the tales of malevolent ghosts on earth, more or less.

But a summoner's unsent form… he had heard tell that unsent summoners were still capable of summoning aeons too them. It was _horrifying_ to be honest.

"That's… oh man…" Chappu's steps caught up to Harry at that moment. "Lady Ginnem?"

The unsent looked to him, her hollow eyes gaining a spark of life before she nodded. She moved from her position near the teleportation pad, eyes following the pair, but she made no hostile moves. Like a trapper out for domesticatable animals, she moved slowly, not making any jerky motions.

Her arm slowly raised and pointed to the pad. As if telling them to pass. _You are not the ones I wait for._ It was a clear enough sign.

"Chappu… who is she?" Harry's voice was a near whisper. He kept his eyes on the unsent. Should he send her? Was she malevolent? She wasn't attacking them, but that didn't mean she wouldn't attack _anyone_.

"Lady Ginnem was… she was Lu's first summoner," Chappu hesitated, but started making steps toward to pad. Harry followed. "A couple of years ago Kilika temple sent out a request for a guardian, and Lulu had just finished her training, ya? An' my girl, she's brave. She went out on her first pilgrimage, just her and Lady Ginnem. Lu told me that got through the calm lands, but never reached Mt Gagazet. I guess… this must be where she died."

They reached the teleport, and Harry stepped on it, ready to be taken to the fayth, but it failed to move him. He knew that by urging it forward he would arrive at the fayth, knew it in his very bones, just as he knew that only small resting areas would be his if he urged left or right, but the pad failed to teleport him. It needed… what did it need? Harry had more than enough power to supply it, and the issue didn't seem to be weight.

He turned to Lady Ginnem, ready to ask, but she had eyes only for Chappu.

"I think you have to come with me, Chappu," Harry said after a moment to connect the dots. "Maybe it doesn't teleport straight to the fayth. Maybe there's a cloister of trials?" Even though it was a lost fayth, something in him whispered _stolen_ fayth, it may have a cloister beyond the fiend-ridden cavern system. And surely Lady Ginnem knew what she was indicating, and she wasn't _contradicting_ him at any rate.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Chappu took the extra too steps forward to step on the platform. The moment he was firmly planted, there was a tugging at Harry's navel, a flash of sickly green light at his feet, and he found his toes not a foot from the edge of a strange taped-over pit.

It took him a moment to realize that this was what an aeon's altar looked like without a crystal. Did "breaking" a crystal not destroy the aeon? Did the fayth's body only need to be in tact?

"Oh no, no no no," Chappu staggered back off the teleport pad. "Is this… is this the Chamber of the Fayth? I can't _be_ here, ya? Get off the pad so I can leave you alone. I'd rather be with an unsent than this!" He looked halfway panicked, and Harry didn't blame him. Non-summoners were _not_ to enter the Chamber of any Fayth. It was a taboo of the highest order and, though Harry wasn't sure of the reason, he was equally nervous. He made to move, but stopped.

"It will do you no good, guardian," the ghostly quality of the voice Harry heard behind him was unquestionably that of the fayth. Harry turned to see a figure rise up from the fayth. Like Ifrit, this fayth was a crusader, though he was a captain rather than the raw recruit that Ifrit had seemed to be. His blue and red uniform stood out as near-solid on his translucent form.

A dog bounded then from the fayth as well, barked twice and settled at its master's feet, waiting.

"I do not care for the traditions of your faith; that was why I joined the crusaders in the first place," the fayth almost seemed to chuckle before giving the standard crusader salute. "But, then, back then Yevon hated the crusaders. I hear they are now agents of Yevon themselves rather than agents against Sin."

"Ya, but, isn't that the same thing?" Chappu couldn't seem to help his response.

The fayth _humphed_ and turned to Harry. "I am Yojimbo. What do you want of me, summoner?"

"I want the power to defeat Sin," Harry replied without missing a beat. He had so hoped it would be Anima, but Yojimbo was an aeon he had never even heard of. Perhaps, rather than by his staff, Yojimbo would be how he would be known. "To defeat Sin and obtain the Final Aeon, the more aeons I have the stronger I will be."

"It is a noble goal, summoner, but my price is steep," Yojimbo crossed his arms then. "What would you offer at my grave to have me serve you?"

"What… what do you want?" asked Harry.

"My price is 250,000 gil. You may try to bargain, but I will not bend much on this, I warn you now." Yojimbo smirked under his helm and the dog panted happily.

Harry's eyes were wide, and Chappu sucked in a breath. Over _two hundred thousand_ gil? That was a king's ransom – or, in more Spiran terms, almost twice as much gil as it took to put on the inaugural Blitz tournament every summer. Harry had perhaps ten thousand on him, would have had almost thirty thousand before his visit to Bevelle. Yojimbo's price was several times the cost of all the offerings they had brought for all the temples combined.

It was, simply put, nothing short of insanity that Yojimbo would think that summoners on pilgrimage could have that much coin!

"That's what I thought," Yojimbo laughed at Harry's hesitation. "I would accept in place of gil a great treasure."

"I don't have _any_ treasure," Harry protested. How could he have known there would be a fayth who put such stock in material wealth? "And I wouldn't know where to go about finding one."

Yojimbo laughed again, this time a deep, raspy chuckle. "You're in luck, Ixion's Chosen. You _do_ possess a great treasure, one you cannot reach without my aid. And one I cannot reach without yours. Allow me to take you to it, allow me to claim my price, and my service shall be yours, Summoner. Service you will find more valuable than Bahamut. Understand?"

Harry had a great treasure? He didn't understand at all, but Yojimbo was a fayth. Even if the Yevonites' ideal of the fayth was flawed, fayth still did want to help Spira and stop Sin. Whatever this treasure was, if he didn't know about it then he lost nothing by trading it to Yojimbo for his service.

After a moment's thought, he turned to Chappu, who was leaning against the cave wall, eyes shut tight and face slightly green. He seemed to be trying to pretend that he had not broken any temple law.

_But, then, we aren't in a temple,_ Harry reminded himself. Not only was there no temple, but the teleportation pad had required Harry bring Chappu with him. They had done _nothing wrong_ and no one would hear of it anyway, unless Chappu admitted to it after they defeated Sin.

"Chappu, what do you think?" Harry asked finally. "You're my guardian. You should have input in this decision."

Because Harry was 13 years old, still almost two weeks from 14, and he needed someone's input. _Anyone's_ input to let him know he was doing the right thing. That Chappu was charged with his safety only made his responsibility to help that much greater. For as rocky as their relationship had been since Guadosalam, Harry trusted Chappu with his life. They would surpass this before they reached Zanarkand, and that was what mattered.

"Just do what you think is right, Harry," Chappu's eyes were still screwed shut. "Your job is to obtain aeons, and mine is to keep you safe. The fayth won't hurt you, it's in the teachings, ya?"

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched upward. "It is," he agreed. He knew the teachings as well as anyone, even if he hadn't started learning them until he was eleven. He turned again to face Yojimbo whose smirk was visible under his helm. "I accept, Lord Yojimbo."

"_Just_ Yojimbo, summoner," the fayth's smirk turned to a grin. "I am a sword for hire. Now pay my price."

An ethereal glow rose from the uncovered fayth and the spectre shot towards Harry as anticipated. What was unexpected was the dog running for Chappu. Harry turned, or tried, to warn Chappu whose eyes were still screwed shut-

But the world turned to light, and Harry felt a tug at his navel that turned into a sensation of all the air being pressed out of him as he was stuffed into an impossibly small space and pulled through it.

Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong. But Harry could do nothing when he couldn't even feel his limbs to attempt to ward off the danger, he could only wait and hope that he had not entered some devil's pact with the aeon. The last time he had experienced this pulling-compacting sensation he had-

He had been taken from _Earth _to _Spira_.

So where, now, was Yojimbo taking him? Ixion said he traveled by dream to Djose Temple. If this was dream… well.

"_The price is too steep_" _indeed_, Harry thought, recalling what the crusader had reported Sir Jecht saying. He felt himself about to pass out from lack of air when he felt the world slam into him. A world that seemed to be made entirely of gold, he though, as the tinkling sound of cascading coins came from his left and he felt the weight of some bounce along his side.

His vision was hazy and he felt nauseous, but his fall was shortly followed by a thud and gasping cough that could only be Chappu, followed by another cascade of coins. The last thing he saw was the ethereal boots of Yojimbo's fayth striding away from him. There was a slide of steel, a long thin sword Harry supposed by the sound, before the fayth flew at him again.

It felt as if he had been pierced through the heart, steel rammed through his body to kill. If the nausea and lack of air hadn't been about to take him, the sheer pain would have been enough to knock him unconscious on its own.

"My price is paid, Summoner."

**End: The Pilgrim**

* * *

**Interlude: Hogwarts, 1991**

It was to a shrill whistle that Albus Dumbledore entered his office. He had returned from breakfast ready to face whatever may come that day. Hogwarts letters had been sent out the night before, and acceptance letters were bound to start flooding Minerva's office by noon. Minerva would send him a notice for each student who had accepted or denied, whose names he would feed into the Hogwarts wards over the course of the following days, marking them as allowed for entrance into Hoggwarts come September.

Of course, Minerva would send him special notices for muggleborn students, that he could prepare to dispatch the correct number of teachers to help explain the magical world to them within the next week. If they did _not_ respond by month's end, professors would arrive to explain anyway and clarify if the muggles had declined to reply as denial or ignorance.

Naturally, she would be coming in person when she received the acceptance from a certain Harry Potter, for reasons that were obvious.

All these things he was prepared for, even if most acceptances would come _after_ that day, as many would have only been opened just then. He had not anticipated that the silver instrument tied to the wards of Number 4 Privet Drive to be whistling.

"How odd," Dumbledore murmured. There were many things that could cause a whistle such as this, none of them lethal. Mostly Harry performing accidental magic, or another wizard being within about a mile or so.

Perhaps Harry had been excited to receive his letter? Though Dumbledore knew he should still have Arabella look in on him. Her leg couldn't still be broken, could it? He was fairly certain muggle medicine wasn't _that_ slow, and even if it was, he knew she took magic remedies to speed her recovery slowly, every so often. Just enough that the muggles would not become suspicious, yet she would be well within a decent time.

It was their little secret, of course. Squibs, like muggleborns, were often treated as second class citizens. She was not technically meant to be having magical remedies, but it was little trouble to have Severus brew her a few once or twice a year.

And he knew she slipped them to Harry sometimes when she was sitting him. All the better, really.

Tapping the instrument with his wand to shut it off, the wizened wizard then moved to the fireplace and took a pinch of floo powder. After tossing the powder in the cold-burning flames, he called Arabella's address and stuck his head in.

Arabella Figg was always swift to answer, wearing a house robe and slippers, tea in her hand with the bag still in. Her wispy hair was pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head, and as always, at least three kneazles were trailing her.

"Arabella, my dear," greeted the Headmaster. "I see your cast is off already, lovely."

"Oh yes, it's been near a month since the Dursley boy ran me over and rebroke it," Arabella nodded, seating herself on the stuffy chair that faced the fireplace. "What are you calling about, Albus? You normally wait until after lunch."

"Straight to the point, then," Dumbledore allowed. Of course, Arabella had to get back to her breakfast. He wouldn't keep her overlong. "Harry should have received his letter this morning. The instrument in my office that tracks the wards had a bit of a blip when I came back from breakfast. It's likely just some excited accidental magic, of course. I'm sure he's eagerly waiting to attend. But I thought it best to request you check in at the Dursley household for me, just in case."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," the squib sighed. "Is that all?"

It was, and Dumbledore removed his head from the fire. He resumed his work for the day.

Completely ignorant to the fact that directly following lunch he would be informed that Harry seemed to be missing.

Or that in one week's time there would still be no one aware of Harry's location, even after he went and interrogated the Dursley family themselves.

Or that, in just a few days shy of 3 years time, all of that would finally change.

On the night of July 21st, 1994, a goblin appeared in the fireplace of Albus Dumbledore, and much would change.

**Author's Note: Although the Final Fantasy wikia says Lulu guarded only Ginnem and Zuke before Yuna, nowhere in the **_**game**_** does it say that. It says Ginnem was her first, and Zuke was the summoner she and Wakka were guardians for following Chappu's death (they were his guardians 6 months before Yuna), but it's implied that she may have had other summoners between Ginnem and Zuke, thus my decision to have them out on pilgrimage when Harry arrived at Besaid. Likewise, the game never says Zuke was Wakka's first summoner. While it does say he didn't really get inspired to become a guardian until after Chappu's death, I took some liberty with the concept of him doing his little brother a favor by helping out Lulu this time.**

**Regarding dates - Harry left Djose on July 3rd, reached Besaid on the 7th, met Lulu and Wakka on the 9th, told Chappu about Earth on the 12th, reached Macalania on in 16th, and this chapter takes place from the 18th through the 21st. (It would be about nightfall on the 21st when he reaches Yojimbo.)**


	6. II: The Wizard: To Suffer a Witch

**Edit (August 9th): Sorry for the delay on chapter 7. This was the last chapter in my buffer and I've got some real life problems that are currently taking precedent. Updates should resume within a month or so.**

**Warnings: **Eventual character death, crossover, het, religious themes.

**Disclaimers:** Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Final Fantasy X belongs to SquareEnix and associates, of whom I am not one.

**Part II: The Wizard**

Chapter 6: To Suffer a Witch

Chappu woke to darkness and a feeling of weight. And unfortunately it was not the darkness of night, nor was it the darkness of the Cavern Yojimbo's fayth had resided in.

Oh _Yevon_ the fayth! Even in the dark he flinched at that. He knew Harry was a heathen, but Chappu had never meant to become a blasphemer himself. He would have been perfectly content to have waited in the cavern to wait for Harry, even with the unsent form of Lady Ginnem, unsettling though that prospect was.

He had tried, through the whole interaction between Harry and the fayth, to remind himself that he had to be there. For some inexplicable reason, the teleportation pad had not reacted to Harry alone and had required he too should go, something that Lady Ginnem seemed to agree with.

Had Lady Ginnem obtained Yojimbo before she died? If so, did that mean Lulu had gone with her into the Chamber of the Fayth? Lulu had never indicated one way or another about it. She had barely spoken about Ginnem after her return, to be honest, and Chappu wasn't one to push her. Not then, before they had come together, and not in more recent years as their bond grew.

There was so much he didn't know about Lulu and Yevon and what might lie outside of Yevon. Harry was proof that there was something beyond Spira. Chappu's thoughts spun to a halt then. Beyond Spira. Was that where Yojimbo had taken them? Where else could Harry claim ownership to a treasure even he didn't know? Chappu remembered the feeling of being shoved into a narrow, airless tube and suffocating nearly to unconsciousness. He remembered his body impacting stone heavily, and the sound of cascading coins, then the feel of them falling over his legs.

He remembered hearing a murmured voice of _other_, almost like the aeon's voice from the fayth, proof enough they hadn't left Spira he now supposed, but it had been just outside his range of hearing. He had tried to crawl towards Harry and then…

What? What had happened when he tried to bring his sore body to his summoner, to protect the boy he was sworn to protect? The room with the treasure Yojimbo called Harry's had been well lit, and even after their landing there had been more gold than Chappu had ever _heard_ of, let alone seen. But now he lay in darkness, pitch black. He couldn't even see the end of his own nose!

He tried to move anything, but there was a distinct pressure on him, holding his body in the exact position he woke in. It was a struggle even to move his tongue inside of his mouth. It almost felt like petrification, or even stop magic, but stop didn't let its victim perceive passage of time, let alone move their tongue.

_I could do with a soft_, thought Chappu wryly. _If I could move, maybe I could cast esuna, but as is…_ he had no focus. Or maybe he did. There was no means to perceive where his sword was, whether at his hip or elsewhere. Given the circumstances, he doubted he still had it.

"Have they woken?" a high sort of voice drifted through the dark, and Chappu waited.

"The claimant has not, but the man is now," a responding voice, slightly raspy compared to the first, though still higher than that of an adult human. But it didn't sound like a child, a Guado, or a Hypello, and Al Bhed voices were more or less the same as human.

"Release him for initial questioning then," the first voice demanded. And as if his words were a spell, the darkness lifted as quickly as a blind removed by esuna. Chappu sucked in a harsh breath as the weight that had held him still released, and he promptly closed his eyes. The room seemed incredibly bright now.

Yet when he went to move, he could do no more than sit. His eyes crept slowly open to gauge his surroundings, but he wasn't tied down. Invisible binds kept him connected by his wrists and ankles to the bed. He found he could slide them along the stiff mattress, but could not lift or otherwise remove them. It was vaguely aggravating.

Once he was certain he had no clue how to break his bindings, Chappu finally looked up.

The source of the voices was now obvious and slightly terrifying in appearance. Two short… somethings, human in shape but not proportion as they had long hands like a guado, were slightly thick around, and short legs. Their noses were long and their faces wrinkled strangely, almost like the squatter monkeys of Djose, and their mouths seemed to be lined with teeth sharper than any fiend. All in all, they made for a horrible wake up call. Were they fiends of some sort?

"Leave us," said the higher voiced fiend to the other. This one's long nose was hooked, and he was ever so slightly taller, his hair darker and wispier. The second only nodded and disappeared through the stone wall itself, as if it were a specter. The fiend turned to Chappu, mouth widening in some crude imitation of a smile, its needle-like teeth interlocking.

Chappu felt his stomach drop. Would he die here?

"Interrogation of intruder to vault 395 will begin now," the fiend intoned, pulling out a small blue device that looked almost like a portable sphere recorder from his pocket, but unless it was a new model then Chappu doubted it. Could this be a fiend? It spoke and wore clothes, and fiends did neither. But what else could it be? "Interrogator: Executive Garnok. The intruder shall now state his name." It paused, and Chappu waited. It sent a glare his way. "The intruder _shall now state his name_."

And that was when Chappu realized that, whatever was going on, _he_ was the intruder.

"Er, Chappu," he answered slowly.

"Full name, intruder," the creature repeated.

Chappu frowned. "That is my full name." It was a bit of a sore point that his parents died before they knew their surnames, and they hadn't been Besaid natives to begin with, just a family on vacation to see Wakka's favorite Blitzball team, so no one else knew their family name either. A few generations back their family may have been from Besaid or Kilika, judging by his and Wakka's looks, but he and Wakka had been without any familiar faces when Sin destroyed Besaid, and they had been too young to know anything about their family. If that attack hadn't been the reason he met, befriended, and fell in love with Lulu, he might have called it the single worst moment of his life.

"… Acknowledged," the fiend stated. It tapped one long finger on the sphere recorder. "Intruder identifies as 'Chappu'. Where are your origins?"

"Besaid island," Chappu repled, uncertain. He was trapped, by a sentient fiend-like humanoid.

"Identify your companion and his origins," the creature continued. He suddenly dropped the sphere recorder entirely, but rather than tumble to the floor it stayed hovering in the air, unaffected by the loss of support.

Chappu shuddered.

"He's a summoner, from Djose," Chappu explained. "I'm his guardian. We're on pilgrimage." Perhaps that would help. Or not. He wasn't sure, really. He had never heard of a race like this in all of Spira, and this stone chamber… he had a distinct feeling he was deep underground.

As a child, one of the other boys on the island had often made up stories about cities underground, though whether they were populated by Spirans from before Sin or fiends was subject to the boy's mood. Chappu wondered if the stories hadn't been so made up after all.

"Your companion's name?" the creature continued, voice crisp and stern now. As if he thought Chappu particularly slow.

"Harry," Chappu paused, trying to recall what Harry's family name was. It had only been told to him a few times. "Harry Potter."

The creature stopped entirely, gaze darting to the hovering blue orb. "Ascertain truth," it said, now turned fully to the orb. After a moment it changed color to green, then back to blue. "I see," the creature murmured, then turned back to Chappu. "Intruder Chappu, under what circumstances did you come to be guardian to Harry Potter?"

That was… interesting. Why did it change gears like that? "He came to Besaid from Djose on his pilgrimage, still in need of a guardian, and I agreed to see him to Kilika. I ended up staying on full time." While it had been hardly more than 2 weeks since he met Harry, he felt as if it had been a foregone conclusion even at the time… but, then, Harry _had_ mentioned a seer. "The temple seer told him I would be there, I think."

The fiend turned again to the orb, which turned green at its command.

And then it left, and Chappu was left alone on the stiff bunk. But at least it wasn't _dark_.

* * *

In the stone chamber, Chappu had no way to tell time. But they brought him meals twice following the interrogation, and they were better than he had heard prison rations to be. Hell, they were better than the lunches he had had with the crusaders when they started courting him a few weeks ago, and those had been better fare than the Besaid standard.

Thick cuts of meat, crisp vegetables, some strange mushed up starchy thing coated in gravy… it tasted amazing and he couldn't understand what opulence these creatures must possess to feed a prisoner so well.

After the second meal, by perhaps a few hours, one of the creatures appeared through the wall again with a barely-awake Harry at its side. It said nothing, simply ran its finger along Harry's shackles before having him place his ankles against the bed Chappu sat on, and Harry was stuck too. Harry dozed back to sleep against Chappu, his light snores eventually lulling Chappu to do the same.

They woke an indeterminate time later. Not a meal time yet, but it was Harry's jolt of surprise upon waking that brought Chappu back to life.

"What- I thought- by Yevon where _are_ we?" Harry murmured, looking around the uniform stone chamber.

"No idea, brudda," Chappu sighed. "I guess you were still out of it when they brought you in last night. You fell straight asleep when you sat on the bed, ya? But there are these little guys, human shaped but with guado length fingers and long noses," he gestured with his hands at how far out the noses went from their faces. He was so glad his hands had been released at feeding time and never reshackled. "Sound like anything you heard of?"

"No, not really," Harry sighed. He sat up as best he could with his ankles attached to the bed and rested is back on Chappu's side. "I can feel Yojimbo now, just like the others. It… hurt to take him. It hurts to take any of them really. You feel their element. But Yojimbo is just… a hired sword. And that's what I felt when he accepted me. I thought he was taking us to Earth, y'know? That was exactly like what the trip to Spira felt. But I have no idea now. There aren't any humanoid creatures on Earth, just humans and I guess monkeys but they don't have long noses I think. Not the ones I saw at the zoo, at any rate.

"I just don't know any. I just want to go back to Spira and continue the pilgrimage. If I don't…" he paused. "We shouldn't be here. Wherever here is, we shouldn't be. My magic doesn't like it. They took our weapons. They took _my staff_ Chappu! The priests taught me what a huge embarrassment that is for a summoner, and they took it while we were unconscious."

"I know, Harry," Chappu sighed and rested his hand on the head that was leaning back on his shoulder. "I know. If we're… where you're from, we gotta get back. And if we're not, then we gotta get out, ya? All we can do is wait. The shackles aren't leaving the bed, that much I know." He had definitely tried. He had ever attempted to channel white magic down his legs, but the shackles seemed to repel magic itself.

As it turned out, they didn't have long to wait. One of the creatures entered through the wall bearing a small blue key, the same shade as the not-quite sphere recorder had been.

"The Goblin Nation apologizes for the inconvenience caused today," it stated. Goblin nation? Were the fiends called goblins, then? "It is currently half six on the morning of the twenty-second of July, you have been in captivity for twenty hours. You shall both be released into the custody of one Albus Dumbledore, liaison of the Ministry of Magic and Headmaster of Hogwarts School to clarify the situation."

Then it placed the tiny blue key into the stone wall it had walked through. Chappu felt his ankles pop away from the bed and finally a door became visible in the wall which the creature – goblin? – walked through without further note.

When Harry and Chappu stumbled outside, they were greeted with a stone hall and the retreating back of the goblin. With nowhere else to go they continued following it, murmuring to each other all the while.

"Don't suppose names like that are common among your people?" Chappu asked in a whisper. Arbus or whatever. It certainly didn't ring any bells to _him_.

"No, we can't possibly be in Britain," Harry shook his head. "That… _goblin_ said 'ministry of magic'. There are ministries to be sure, but magic… there is no magic there. Uncle Vernon made sure I knew it too. Magic was just on the telly or in story books. Just a fairy story – I mean, children's tale. They had machina instead, and lots of it."

"Well aside from the sphere recorder they used in my interrogation, there's no machina here yet brudda," Chappu sighed. They could at this point see the end of the hall lit brighter than the hall itself. It wasn't a very long hall at all, it seemed, and they were only a few paces behind their guide at this point.

"Yeah, I guess not," Harry edged closer to Chappu. "Let's hope that whoever's custody we're being released into can return my staff. Yojimbo brought us here, so he'll be the one to get us back." Being released into custody was rare in Spira from what he understood. In their short visit to Djose Temple, in hushed whispers, Tal had told him the rumor that Sir Jecht had not originally been a guardian as Sir Auron, had not been a warrior monk, but had instead been a prisoner in Bevelle due to drunken disorderly conduct, released into Lord Braska's custody to become a guardian.

One of the elder monks had overheard and confirmed, telling of how Jecht was newly sober when Braska came for Ixion. There was supposedly a shoopuf which still bore the scar of Jecht's drunkenness, but Chappu hadn't notice any such shoopuf at the Moonflow.

It was all just hearsay and tell, at any rate. Tales of High summoners and their guardians were all outlandish. He suppose he deserved that one for bringing up how his sword was of the same design as Sir Jecht's. But could he help being the fan of such a man? A great blitzer like he had wanted to be as a child, and a great warrior as Chappu was now coming to understand himself to have the potential to be.

"I guess so," Chappu agreed finally. "I'm starting to wonder if Yojimbo was the right move though." The tonberry, the unsent Ginnem, the _blasphemy_… yes, he was actually quite sure they would have been better off without it.

In moments they were beyond the hall. The goblin had vanished, only a handful of chairs in the room. The hallway itself vanished, as in the cell they had been in not two minutes previous, and no doorways leading out could be seen. Chappu looked about, but with no identifying marks he could only sigh and gesture to the deep red arm chairs.

"I can't relax like this, Chappu," Harry sighed. "Everything's… wrong. I don't know what it is. I thought Yojimbo might have been bringing us to… where I'm from. He implied it. But…"

"I wasn't paying much attention 'til the end," admitted Chappu. "Ya know, the blasphemy and all." He still cringed at the thought and he had had untold hours the day before to contemplate it, to try to come to terms with how all of this upset his Yevonite upbringing. And it wasn't as thought this had been much weirder than discovering Harry's origins or that he was Guardian to a heathen summoner! "But I… I kinda thought that too, ya? It… I was thinking about it, before I saw the… goblins…"

"Yeah." Harry didn't need to reiterate how this couldn't be his "Earth". Not again. It was too readily apparent that Harry can't have come from here.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes.

"When we get back, I _am_ going to continue the Pilgrimage," Harry stated finally. "I am… well, you know." And Chappu nodded, even though Harry was just 13. And everyone on Besaid had argued so strongly against Yuna starting her training in time to go on Pilgrimage at 16, yet here Chappu was leading a child on that same journey.

Chappu had to give the kid respect, even if he shoved that thought out of his mind every time he felt the cold rolling in his stomach. Harry was willing to die for Spira, and even though Chappu barely knew the kid, he thought he would be okay with dying in the line of duty, too.

"We'll figure it out," Chappu said. And they spoke no more as they waited.

After a few minutes, a doorway opened up in the wall before them, and a third chair appeared from nowhere. The soft sound of leather-soled boots on stone met Chappu's ears and a dark figure approached, seeming inhumanly tall with an oddly pointed head.

When the light of their chamber caught the toes of the figure's luminous robe bottom – and such strange robes, not at all like those worn by Summoners and priests – he could mostly make out that while it was tall, it was only a normal sort of tall, wearing a tall pointed hat, and a long shadowed beard fell from his chin, though in the strangely obscured doorway Chappu could make out little else than the glint of glasses where he presumed its eyes to be. The beard moved.

"Welcome home, Harry."

* * *

Harry didn't know what was going on. Not in the least. He had almost wanted to believe that they had brought to Earth, though everything proved to the contrary, and then a wizened old man, easily as ancient as Grand Maester Mika, had appeared.

And welcomed them home.

Meaning that despite the short creature – goblin? – and the odd manacles and the magically appearing doorways in the stone… this was earth. Or it was some strange set up.

He didn't want to _think_.

"As I said, Harry, welcome home," the old man repeated with a cough when Harry failed to react. He stepped properly into the light of their stone chamber, no longer obscured by the incorporeal veil that had made him indistinct.

His beard and hair were easily 3 feet long and tucked into the belt that held his strange robes together. Unlike the robes Harry wore as his formal garb for summoning, which were more or less a traditional Spiran style, these resembled Uncle Vernon's bathrobe, though they were of some fine spun cloth, and layered with three colors. Topmost was a bright blue, but Harry could see at the lapel a secondary golden robe and a tertiary closed-neck robe of dark purple, each also slightly visible under the hems of the sleeves and bottom.

Half frame glasses were perched on a nose that had been broken one too many times, magnifying light blue eyes that held a mysterious twinkle to them. The man was tall already, almost the height of a Ronso woman Harry thought, and he wore a strange tall hat that ended in a point, the same color as the topmost robe, which gave the illusion of him being the same height as a large male Ronso instead.

All in all, what came to mind was a story Harry had read as a child in school about King Arthur and his mentor Merlin. This man looked just like the Merlin character drawn in the books, and the one in the film Dudley had watched in place of doing his reading for class.

_What a strange guise to take, _thought Harry.

And the first words Harry could think to say was, "Who are you?" Because the old man seemed to imply he knew Harry, but the young summoner could confirm he had never met such a person in his entire life.

"Ah, yes, my apologies," the old man sat then in a third chair which Harry was certain had not been in the room until that moment. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The man whose custody they were being released into.

A school? Those were few and far between in Spira. While not _all_ learning was centered on the temples, the only school Harry had seen with his own eyes there had been the one in Bevelle, which had still been temple run, though it had some non-Yevon-specific subjects. As it was, Harry had not set foot in a school since he was ten, back in Surrey.

And the idea of a school for _witchcraft_…

"'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,'" Harry murmured under his breath. Aunt Petunia had said that to him several times, he recalled. She also insisted magic wasn't real, so he wasn't sure what she meant by using that line in reference to him or his mother. Magic was real in Spira, and a dark myth on earth… a strange thing, he supposed. One world loved technology and hated the concept of magic, the other in complete reverse.

He rather preferred Spira's view, to be honest.

"Ah yes, I have heard that line many times," the old man, Dumbledore, broke him from his musings. "I will tell you what I have told the families of countless devout muggleborn students; that passage is a mistranslation perpetuated from the King James Bible. The true translation is more along the lines of a _poisoner_ than a _witch_. It takes a small knowledge of the historical context of those times in which the King James was translated to know what an issue muggles were taking with magic in Europe." He paused, then smiled. "There is no conflict between faith and magic unless you want there to be."

Harry could feel his heart hammering in his ears, all thoughts of the man's words about magic whisked straight out of his mind.

Europe. England was in Britain was a part of Europe which was on _Earth_.

He grasped desperately to his right to where Chappu was sitting and gripped his forearm as he stared wide-eyed at Dumbledore. This was all the confirmation he needed then. Earth. Maybe even England.

"We have to go back." Harry's voice was strangely dry and his throat felt stressed. The tiny spark of hope in him that they were somehow in Spira, that it would take only a few days to get the pilgrimage back on track, it had died. Could he still summon here? Would an Aeon be able to return him home?

It had been a passing thought before, a strange assumption, but now that the strange reality was upon them…

"Harry, I'm sorry to say that is ill advised," Dumbledore responded, voice clear but cold now. Dangerous. Who _was_ this man? "There are matters which must be sorted before it can be considered, the least of which is learning what became of you in the past three years. After all pressing business has been sorted, if you still wish to return to where you have been, we will go to the utmost lengths to make that happen."

"You can't keep us here, we're on _Pilgrimage_," Chappu sounded especially scandalized. Not even Al Bhed, for all their well known hatred of the use of the Final Aeon, would actually prevent a summoner from going on Pilgrimage. The idea was _unheard of_. For any citizen of Spira to stand between a Summoner and Zanarkand was sacrilege, plain and simple. "Where's Harry's staff? And my sword? We can't _stay here_." Wherever here was.

"I'm sorry Mr Chappu, but there is no going around this," the old man held then a small stick in his hand of knobbly white wood. It appeared to Harry to be sort of like a wand he'd seen party magicians use, though the ones on telly always had strange black ones with white tips. But that was the best comparison he could make.

Then the old man flicked the stick in the air and Harry felt a strange drifting cold settle over him. And his connection to his aeons was suddenly… not gone, but _dampened_. The feeling of power they gave him was brought down to a trickle, and his bones gained a deep weariness. Had he been standing, Harry was certain he would have fallen to the ground like a broken puppet.

Another flick and the sensation lifted, and Harry felt his aeons fill him again.

"What did you do?" Harry sucked in air, mind reeling. Chappu didn't seem any better off, and Harry realized it hadn't just been the connection to his aeons that went wrong, but he probably couldn't have cast any black magic given his staff, either. Chappu, who was new to his white magic still, might have felt it more keenly.

"That was, technically, not my doing," Dumbledore's tone was grave. Like when the head monk had been informing Harry of just what the end result of becoming a summoner was. His face matched. Even through the thick beard and mustache, Harry could see the old man's frown, and the way his face crinkled around the brow indicated sheer regret, or something like it. "That was the result of the defenses from your vault.

"I don't know where you have been Harry, but… well, the Potter vault is an old one," the elderly man intoned. "I'll assume you know little of our world, given your family and how you disappeared, suffice to say that the Goblin Nation has warred against wizards many a time. The last of them occurred when I was a lad, younger even than you. In the war reparations, we had them man our banks. Gringotts was an existing establishment, going back centuries, each vault guarded by family wards. Unfortunately, with goblin magic backing it, we have your current predicament.

"Entering the Potter vault without the key or blood sacrifice will tether the intruder. They cannot go more than 100 yards from the center of the vault, to prevent thievery. When the intrusion was detected, you were moved to a cell within that radius. Goblin and human wards, however, are… testy when they work together. Between the extra strength of the wards to your vault from the goblin enchantments and the manacles that were placed on you… well, the magic was transferred to my person, thus why you had to be released into captivity, as it were. I am told the effects are temporary, and should fade over time after leaving the goblin wards."

Harry didn't understand… well, most of what was being said. But he got the gist. Some strange spell was on them. And it would go away over a certain period of time, like blind or poison or silence. And it would somehow prevent them from returning.

"How long?" Chappu's voice cut through again. Harry was grateful to have a guardian who was more dominant in conversation than he was. Harry enjoyed talking, but Chappu could be confrontational and _push_ more than Harry was willing.

"The Potter wards have not been tested, but from what the head of security here informed me when the grounding power of the ward was transferred to my person…" Dumbledore pulled out a scrap of paper. "The radius of your range of movement away from myself should increase by about one hundred meters per day at first, more and more each day over time, until the magic becomes too weak to hold you. It should increase faster as time goes by, but we can't be sure. So unless you have been hiding out in the Scottish countryside these past few years, I'm afraid you have until at least June of next year before we can consider breaking the curse."

"A _year_?" he sucked in a harsh breath. "But… my pilgrimage! And… and _Sin_…" Sweet Shiva, _Sin_. He was going to stop Sin and give the world some peace and now he was on _earth_ and…

"Harry…" the old man paused and leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the armrests and steepled his hands. "Harry, I do not know where you have been these past years, but from your words, you have been in some… very religious company."

"I have, but not in the way you think," Harry interjected before Dumbledore could make any assumptions, but his words were frantic, tumbling over each other in an effort to be heard. "We're in England, aren't we? Or at least somewhere in Britain?" Dumbledore nodded, and Harry continued. "Where I've been no one had heard of it. Chappu only learned that Europe was a place perhaps a week ago. When I… _left_ my aunt's house, I woke up in a temple, and I received training to go on pilgrimage and defeat Sin. The pilgrimage is a short journey allowing one such as myself to gain the power needed to fight Sin. And Sin… isn't like the sins aunt Petunia told me about. Sin is a monster as tall as a sky scraper and as destructive as those big bombs from the last big war." He wouldn't remember names, but he recalled photos from class.

"I have never heard of such a thing," Dumbledore murmured, cold blue eyes glinting in the light. "We will discuss this further I'm sure, you can't explain 3 years in a short meeting of course. Harry, where _have_ you been?"

"A completely different world called Spira."

He didn't anticipate the old man fainting, or any of what was to come, but Harry would find himself woefully unprepared.

**Author's Notes: Welcome to The Wizard! Gift Shop is on your left.**

**So Harry's kind of in shock, thus his sort of inability to connect magic and Earth and his trouble processing things in the conversation. Chappu's straight up fish out of water, and Dumbledore is trying to seem kind and wise but also soothe Harry for the moment because from a cursory look he can tell just how little Harry could deal with a proper explanation right now. And then he goes from thinking Harry was abducted by some religious group and then... Harry wasn't even on earth. Bam.**

On another note, I have received 2 reviews that I actually take personal insult to. The first was thanking me for "being a female who writes non-slash". 1) I have written slash. 2) There is nothing wrong with writing slash fiction (so long as you are not fetishizing homosexuality, that ain't cool bro). 3) Why does it MATTER?

The other said they lost interest upon finding out that this fic doesn't contain a main pairing. Which is fine, I respect that, and there are a few people who said the same. But they went on to say that not having a main pairing results in an "idealized" character, one without desires or feelings or agency. 'Cause, y'know, it's not like I don't say in Chapter One that when the story ends Harry will barely be 15. So I'm saying it again. By the time the story ends **_Harry will barely be 15_**. I'm going to make some things clear:

1) for as many 15 year olds who are in relationships, there are two who are not.  
2) I am NOT going to fetishize a 14 year old child just because you think that not writing about him lusting after girls/boys/whatever (when he has a LOT of more important things to deal with) makes him an unbelievable character.  
3) In the books, y'know, the original source material? Harry wasn't even sure if he had a crush on Cho for quite a while, he literally just thought she was pretty and he only got jealous of Cedric because he convinced himself (and Cho helped with this) that the ONLY reason she went with Cedric instead was because Cedric asked first, so he convinces himself that she maybe liked him too - a girl he had literally never talked to before asking her out and had only played opposite in Quidditch once.  
4) That attitude erases the experience of asexuals/aromantics AND anyone who didn't care about dating at that age or had too much going on. Say, y'know when I really want to go hunting for a boyfriend? When I'm waist deep in culture shock and fighting for my life and trying to get back home so I can save the world. Yes, this is what 13-15 year olds want. Of course.

That reviewer also seemed to be of the assumption that Harry is suicidal.

What the actual fuck.


End file.
